If I never knew you
by Akikofuma
Summary: Daryl meets Rick in a bar, and despite never thinking a guy as gorgeous as the deputy would never be interested in the archer. It turns out that Rick seems to be just as fascinated with Daryl as he is with Rick, and with the homophobic Merle in prison, things between them unfold and take an unexpected turn. Rick is everything Daryl hadn't even known he wanted./Dom!Rick, Sub!Daryl
1. Chapter 1

Daryl had always thought he was subtle when he checked out some dude.

He had to be, with Merle almost constantly by his side, loud and obnoxious, and about as enthusiastic about _fairies_ as he was about spending time in jail. So, the younger had never told him that he was, in fact, as gay as the day was long. He hadn't been with a lot of guys, having to sneak out the shack they called home at night, when Merle was passed out on the shabby couch, to quickly pick up some guy from a gay bar or club, fuck them in some dark alley, and get back. It was all he had ever known, and never minded it. It wasn't like any of those guys were looking for more, and even if they had been, they sure as _hell_ wouldn't have picked him for it.

And so, when Daryl checked out the cop standing at the bar, back turned to Daryl, the archer didn't expect to be caught. And fuck, that man did have a nice ass, he could tell, even through the not-so-flattering khaki uniform pants. Daryl wanted to see that ass in a nice, tight pair of jeans, wanted to put his hands on firm mounds and _squeeze_. He tore his eyes away as quickly as he could, mourning the fact that if cops hung out here, Merle wouldn't want to come back, and this had probably been his only chance to check out the mans backside.

Merle was speaking to him, and Daryl gave a grunt of acknowledgment, despite not really listening. His brother was getting to the point of intoxication where the words came out half formed, making it hard to distinguish where one word ended, and the other began. Not that the rambling was anything worth listening to. Something about 'Damn Mexicans' and 'Should build a fucking _wall_ ' no doubt, because those were Merle's favorites right now.

It took conscious effort to not let his eyes drift back to what he really wanted to be looking at, and so instead, the archer chose to settle on the back of the cops head. His hair was brown, with curls, and the redneck allowed himself a second to imagine what it would feel like to run his fingers through those locks, maybe tug at them a little.. 'God, enough already', he thought, bringing up the thumb of his right hand, chewing on the skin to calm himself. He hadn't even seen the guys _face_ yet, and he prayed to a god he didn't really believe in that when the man turned around, his face would be off putting, and maybe then Daryl could move on.

Either god really didn't exist, or he was sadistic fuck. A second after Daryl had finished his little prayer, the cop turned around, carrying glasses of beer in his hands, making his way back to the group of colleagues that sat at a round table in one of the bars corners. The motherfucker wasn't just handsome, he was _gorgeous_. Clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, a mouth that looked like it was _fucking made_ for sin. And then he was locking eyes with the very possibly most attractive man Daryl had ever seen, realizing that he must have been staring, because the cops eyebrow was quirked, perfect mouth curled into a tiny, knowing smile.

Embarrassment flooded Daryl so violently, he couldn't bare spending another second in the same room with that man. Not just because he had been caught checking him out, but because he had been actually fucking _staring_ , damn close to drooling all over a fucking _stranger_.

"Lets go." He told Merle, grabbing his brother by the arm and tugging.

"Ey, was yer hurry Darleena?" Merle slurred back, leaning against the chairs back, using his weight to keep himself seated. "I like it here."

"Don' need ta sit 'round with no cops man." Daryl spat, standing in a fluid motion. "Got other bars in this shit town."

"Hey, calm down now lil' brother." Merle was grinning at him, eyes glassy with alcohol. "'m having a good time here. Like lookin' at the lil lady at the bar, think she has a thing fer me. Don' wanna go no where else. So why don' you go outside, have a smoke, an' cool yer tits?"

"Fuck you." Daryl growled, grabbing the keys to the car and storming out. Two steps out of the damn bar, however, he slowed. He wasn't going to leave his brother alone and piss drunk in the company of a group of fucking cops. He couldn't. Merle would get himself arrested, that was just how he _was_ , and an arrest would mean breaking his probation. So there was no way Daryl could just jump into the truck and leave, and Merle _fucking knew it._ Frustrated with himself, the archer grabbed the pack of smokes from his pocket, pulling one out to lodge it firmly between his lips, fishing for the lighter for a few moments before finally being able to inhale the first lung full of nicotine.

It was a horrible habit, one he had tried to quit over and over again. But whenever he had decided he would try to go without, some shit came up. Merle back in prison, being bitched at by his moron boss for no good reason, not being able to hit on a ridiculously hot police man in a bar..

"Shit." He grunted, shaking his head and taking another drag. It had never felt like this before, not once. He'd never been that attracted to anyone after just a second of looking at them, and it was unsettling to say the very least. He best not return to that bar, avoid all chance of him running into the man of his wet dreams again. Still, those eyes would haunt him for days , if not weeks to come, no doubt.

"Hey." The voice startled Daryl so much, he spun around, dropping his cigarette to the ground. The very man Daryl had been trying to avoid was now standing before him, giving him a crooked grin, thumbs pushed through loops of his belt. And of fucking course, his voice was perfection, low and smooth, with just a hint out authority shining through.

"Hey." He replied, more out of reflex than anything else, before finally noticing he had dropped his smoke. Cursing below his breath, he pulled out the pack again, begrudgingly noticing he had only two more left. It wasn't long before his attention was drawn back to the officer, as he was once more addressed.

"Think I could have one?" The Adonis asked, jerking his chin toward the cigarettes. Normally, Daryl wouldn't have given away his last smoke, and intended to tell the man to fuck off, as he would have with anyone else. Instead, strangely, he grunted and nodded, handing over the cigarette he had retrieved, pulling out the one that had been left behind.

"Got a lighter, too?"

"Ya need me ta smoke it fer ya too, Officer?" Daryl snarked, immediately regretting his comment and tensing, because now there was even _less_ of a chance, if there had ever been one at all. Instead of retorting, however, the officer just laughed, a rich sound that Daryl couldn't help but adore.

"Nah, but I'll come back when I'm done so ya can put it our fer me." The cop teased, quirking his brown at the archer as he had done before, making Daryl want to squirm. "Ya gonna give it ta me?"

Daryl brain short circuited, unable to stop the tremble that shot down his spine, biting down on his lower lip to hold in a pathetic little whine. Those words coming from this mans mouth were enough to make Daryl want to push him up against the wall, press himself against that broad chest and just- _No_. This was _not_ how this was going to go, so his cock could fucking stand down. The cop was probably straight, and way out of Daryls league. Moments had passed in silence, and when Daryl felt like he could move again, he offered his lighter to the other male silently.

"Thanks." He watched as Adonis lit his smoke before handing it back, giving Daryl a short nod. "I'm Rick. Rick Grimes."

"A'right." Was all the archer could come up with in response. Rick Grimes. The name suited him, Daryl thought, allowing himself a quick glance at Ricks face.

"Gonna tell me yer name?" Rick asked, once more regarding Daryl with an expression that screamed _he fucking knows_.

"Why should I?" Daryl grunted, forcing himself to turn away from Rick, taking a shaky drag. Years of tracking and hunting in the woods had honed Daryls senses, and fuck, he could _feel_ Rick staring at him.

"'cause its polite." Rick replied evenly, and then he was moving closer, until Daryl could feel the heat of Ricks body against his back, making it even harder to keep himself together, to stay focused on smoking. "Don' ya wanna be polite fer me? Be a good boy fer me?"

Something deep within the redneck reacted to the last question, a part that Daryl hadn't even known existed, but had burst forward so forcefully he had to choke off another pathetic sound of want. No one had ever spoken to him like that. They had been intimidated by him, even the few twinks he had fucked. They had taken one look at him and decided that he wasn't the type to bottom, or do anything the sweet and gentle way. But Rick.. Daryl swallowed around the lump in his throat, desperately trying to fight the fluttering pleasure low in his abdomen, because he just _couldn't_ be getting off on some jackass calling him a boy, making him submit to his rules-

"Come on. Tell me. Know ya can be a good boy fer me."

"Daryl. Dixon." The words came out before he could regain control of his treacherous body, could remind himself that this was wrong.

"Daryl." Rick repeated, almost softly, and hearing his name in that voice did things to Daryl. He wanted to hear Rick say it again and again, preferably while they were fucking vigorously. "Did good, Daryl. Real good."

Daryl shook his head, choosing not to answer, because if he couldn't manage to throw a punch or at least _insult_ the man, he should just keep his mouth shut all together. It was confusing as fuck to feel the pleasure spreading through him at the praise, something Daryl had never experienced before. It was becoming too much to process, to much to bare really. He wanted to run and hide in the woods until it stopped, until he was _himself_ again, except... In these brief moments he had felt like himself more than ever before. And fuck, if that wasn't a whole new level of weird. What was even weirder was how Rick seemed to pick up on his turmoil, moving away from the redneck. Or maybe he had just wanted a smoke and now that he did, he didn't want to be around Daryl anymore. He had said it himself, it was just polite to introduce himself to the guy, and that just made much more sense to the archer, the idea Rick wanted to be close to him was stupid-

"Gonna be here tomorrow. Without the guys. If ya wanna meet." Rick told him, and then Daryl could hear the cop moving away, granting him the room he had been wishing for so desperately a second ago.

"Fuckin' Rick Grimes." Daryl breathed, kicking at a small rock on the floor. "Fuck."

* * *

He promised himself he wouldn't go. Promised himself he'd wait for Merle to be too drunk to realize that Daryl was taking him home, and they'd never come back. He'd never see Rick fucking Grimes again. Would never let himself feel that little flutter again, because that was dangerous territory. Anything that felt _that_ good had to be trouble, he just knew it. And he had enough on his plate as it was.

The cops had left long before Merle had finally had his fill, and Daryl was disappointed when Rick didn't even glance at him as they passed by, pissing him off even more. Because it didn't _fucking matter_ if Rick looked at him. It wasn't going to happen.

When Daryl had finally managed to get Merle into the truck, his brother was completely wasted. Cringing a bit, Daryl hoped Merle wouldn't throw up in his truck again. The ride home wasn't exactly smooth once they turned onto the dirt road that lead to the run down shack, and he should have thought to bring a bag or some shit. Surprisingly, they got there without an incident, and Merle was soon sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

With his work done, Daryl moved into his own bedroom, although the term "bedroom" was being used loosely here. It was a small room that held a worn down mattress placed directly on the floor, with makeshift ashtrays and beer bottles surrounding it. His clothes laid in a duffel bag, all of them worn and faded. He couldn't afford to buy clothes, not even with a steady job, Merle pissing away the money Daryl made almost as quickly as it was earned, mostly for booze and meth. It was frustrating, as much was in his life, to work day after day, and never be able to afford buying something for yourself. But Merle was kin, was his blood, and he'd do anything for his family.

Daryl didn't bother to undress, toeing off his shoes and socks before settling on his mattress, pulling the worn blanket over his body, sighing deeply. Winter was coming. He'd have to buy a space heater, and thicker blankets, or they'd freeze. That meant money being hidden from Merle, which was a problem in itself. When Merle was craving another hit, nothing in the shack was safe. He'd go through every corner to find cash, had even pawned Daryls tv one day, just so he could get high. Daryl, of course, had been livid, had yelled and thrown punches, only to be knocked out cold by a hit to the head. And that was that.

Groaning, Daryl rolled himself onto his stomach, burying his head into the flat pillow, wishing he could just drown out all the shit in his life and sleep. And that's when his mind jumps to the image of Rick, replaying the cops words in his mind.

" _Don' ya wanna be polite fer me? Be a good boy fer me?"_

"No." Daryl rasped to the empty room, biting down on his lip as the memory made his cock twitch with interest. He wasn't going to do this. He _wasn't_. Ignoring his body, Daryl stubbornly remained still, fingers curling into the flimsy sheet below him. But he couldn't stop picturing Rick, no matter how hard he tried to think of _anything_. His cock was getting hard, begging for attention. But he _wasn't going to do this_. Daryl refused to jerk off thinking about the smug cop, about how it would feel to have Rick pressed up against his back, hard cock rubbing against his ass, hot and long and _perfect_..

 _Come on. Tell me. Know ya can be a good boy fer me._

"Fuck.. N-No.." Daryl whimpered, unable to stop his hips from rocking into the mattress, slow and timidly at first, but picking up the pace steadily. Rick would be gorgeous without his clothes on, Daryl could just _tell,_ his muscles would be defined, his skin would be soft.. Strong arms would wrap around Daryls chest, would keep him in place as Rick fucked into him roughly, growling and panting into the archers ears as he took him, marked and claimed him, and Daryl would let him, _wanted to let him_ , wanted Rick to moan his name and spill into him, deep and hard, fill him with seed, and only then would he start jerking Daryl off, only then allow the redneck to reach his own peak, mumbling sweetly into his ear.

 _Did good, Daryl. Real good_.

It took longer than it should have to claw his way back to reality, unsettling Daryl even more, once he was capable to think about what had just occurred. Namely being, him rubbing off on his mattress like a fucking teenager, and shooting off in his briefs untouched. It had been forever since he had felt such bliss after an orgasm, and that frightened the archer even more. Because Rick had woken something in him, something Daryl couldn't even _begin_ to understand. He wanted to go back to that bar and punch him in the face. Wanted to beat the living fuck out of him for what he had done. Daryl knew he'd do neither. And not just because he didn't want to get arrested. Deep down, and without admitting it to himself, he knew that all really wanted to do was bend over and take whatever Rick gave him. Wanted to be praised by his Adonis. Wanted things he had never wanted before.

It was that moment that Daryl realized a simple truth.

He was _fucking screwed._

* * *

As it turned out, Daryl wouldn't have made it to the bar the next night, even if he had decided to go.

Merle had woken late afternoon, after Daryl had already shot them two rabbits and a few squirrels, simply building a fire and roasting them on a stick. They had a semi working kitchen, but Daryl hadn't felt up to messing with their stove or oven. It wasn't like it made much of a difference, Merle would eat whatever the archer made after a night of drinking. Once he had rejoined the land of the living, and eaten his share, he had told to grab the keys to his truck and drive him to his dealer.

Daryl hated doing it, hated the skinny little kid, hated the smell that lingered throughout his house. Hated the way things could go from fine to fucking catastrophic within the blink of an eye. He tried to tell Merle to go himself, to take the truck and leave him the fuck alone, but the older Dixon insisted Daryl join him, so that he could drive him home. Meaning Merle didn't even intend to wait until they were home to get fucked up, and also that they'd be there for a while.

He tried to tell himself it was just as well, that he wouldn't have gone to meet Rick, and that this was better for everyone involved. But as time passed, as it got closer and closer to closing time for the bar, Daryl became more and more pissed off. Because even if he hadn't intended to do anything with Rick, he should have _at least_ have shown up, told the cop that it wasn't happening. Because what if Rick was waiting for him, watching the hours tick by until finally giving up and going home? It wasn't likely, not really, but the nagging voice in Daryls head wouldn't quit whispering to him that _just maybe_ , Rick really was sitting at that bar, be disappointed when the redneck didn't show. Daryl could barely stand the thought of it, but all his attempts to get Merle to leave failed.

They ended up getting home at four a.m., which gave Daryl _two fucking hours_ before he had to get up again for work. On days like these, he really wished his life was different, that he didn't have to deal with a brother that wasn't only addicted to meth, but was a fucking jerk. That he could have a nice, cozy apartment with a real bed in it . Maybe even go out on a date with a guy he actually liked.

It was never going to happen. Daryl would probably die in this shack, like his old man had, alone and broke. He was wasting time wishing for things he knew he could never have.

Resigning to his fate, Daryl let himself drift asleep for what little time he had left before work, hoping that somehow, the day wouldn't be hell.

* * *

"Fucking hell, Merle." Daryl growled into his phone, sliding into the front seat of his truck, fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. "How the _fuck_ did you get arrested in a _fucking Wendy's_?!"

"Hey now, lil brother, wasn' my fault! That kid at the cash register was gettin' snarky with me, an' I jus' told him ta keep his cock suckin' mouth shut, and.. it all jus' happened, ya know how it is."

"I don' give a fuck what he said, Merle. Yer on _fuckin' probation_." Daryl snapped, trying not to get too distracted while he drove to the precinct. "Yer gonna go back , ya know that?! An' I ain't visitin' yer sorry ass every weekend again, ya here me? I ain't gonna send you money, neither."

"Come on, Darleena. Both know that ain't true. Ya gonna come see me before they take me?" Daryl wanted to say no. He really did. Instead, he grunted and ended the call. He was always going to go see Merle, if only so he knew where they'd take him. He hated that Merle was right. He was going to visit his idiot brother whenever the prison allowed him to, and when Merle called and asked the archer to send some money, Daryl would head to the bank and get it done.

He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't cleaned up Merles mess.

The precinct was quiet that evening, Daryl was still in his work clothes, grease, motor oil and sweat clinging to his skin. He couldn't have been a pretty sight, with his hair in a state of disarray, scowling at everyone who dared to look at him for too long as he made his way to the reception.

"Lookin' fer my brother. Merle." He bit out, glaring at the petite woman sitting there. Carol, as Daryl had soon learned after a few visits to either bail Merle out, or see him before he went to do time, was a sweet woman. Daryl didn't usually snap at her as he would everyone else, but today, he simply couldn't do anything but spew venom.

"Oh, yes." Carol nodded, ignoring the archers behavior, going through some paperwork on the desk before her. "You made it just in time, they're about to get going. Come on, I'll take you."

Carol rose from her chair, leading the way, Daryl trailing behind her with his head down, until they had reached the cell Merle was currently sharing with two other men.

"Hey lil brother!" Merle greeted, grinning at him as if nothing was wrong, as if he wasn't about to fucking _abandon_ Daryl again for the rest of the time he would have been on probation. "Ya look like shit."

"Well, least I ain' bein' thrown in a cell." Daryl snapped, eyes narrowing. "Fuckin' hell Merle.. Couldn' stay out of trouble fer one fuckin' day, could ya?!"

"Calm yer tits, Darleena. I'll be back home before ya know it." It was all he could do to keep his mouth shut. Because yelling at each other while surrounded by fucking _cops_ was not going to change anything.

"Daryl." The archer lowered his head at Carols voice, knowing that this was where he had to step away and leave, so the cops could go in, cuff Merle, and take him away. He hated this part the most.

"Yeah." He replied quietly, taking a deep breath before stepping back, glancing up at Merle. "..See ya durin' visitation."

He didn't wait for a reply, spinning on his heel and leaving the precinct, once more feeling like he had been left behind by the one person he had left in his life.

* * *

The days passed, and without Merle around, Daryls life went a lot smoother. He had the car to himself, and the shack. He got to work on time, and always had enough hot water to take a proper shower. He didn't have to worry about being quiet while touching himself, because there was no one there to hear. He should have been ecstatic. Should have felt relief. Daryl didn't feel anything but profound loneliness.

He had thought about Rick every single night, wishing he had been able to get more time with the cop. That he had been able to meet him, and just sit side by side while drinking a cold beer. The cops presence had been comforting, in a strange way, and Daryl craved that comfort, wanting just a few minutes where he could close his eyes and pretend his life wasn't completely fucked up. He hadn't gone back to the bar, though, because by now, Rick had surely moved on to someone else. If he had been interested in Daryl at all, a thought that still seemed foolish to the redneck. Still, whenever he pictured Rick with another, female or male, he couldn't help the jealousy rising in his chest, wrapping itself around his heart, getting tighter with each day he didn't see Rick.

The fear of rejection kept Daryl away for all of two weeks, before he found his way back. He had chosen to sit at the bar this time, ordering a beer from the bartender, an Asian male today, not the girl Merle had been after. Rick, hadn't been there, but Daryl decided that he was already here, might as well have a drink.

So he sat there, slowly sipping, eyes downcast, his grip on the glass too hard. He shouldn't have let himself hope, shouldn't have allowed himself to think that _maybe_ , Rick would be here, would have come here for _him_ -

"Scotch. Single mold."

Daryl almost fell off the bar stool at the voice, feeling the tight knot in his stomach incinerate, because that voice could only be.. Daryl turned his head, and there Rick stood, right beside him, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, giving Daryl that smug little grin again. He'd been so in thought, he hadn't even noticed that someone had come up beside him, and that hadn't happened in.. fuck, he couldn't even remember.

"Hello Daryl." Rick said, accepting his own drink from the bartender, turning his body to face Daryl, their body only inches apart.

"Hello Rick." The reply came before Daryl could really think about it. All he knew was that Rick had told him to be polite, and if he was polite, he'd get praised. As disturbing as it was to the redneck, the small nod of approval from the cop made him feel.. something. Whatever it was, it helped him relax, the stress that had accumulated during the past two weeks seeping out of him.

"Haven' been here in a while." Rick continued, but this time, he sounded more serious. The smug grin was gone, and he was regarding the archer with an expression Daryl couldn't quite place.

"Yeah. Had shit ta do. Work, 'n stuff." He took another sip of his beer, his throat suddenly dry. Rick just kept looking at him, as if he was waiting for something.

"That all? Work?" He asked quietly, eyes so intense Daryl had to look away.

"..Brother got in trouble. Got arrested. Back in prison now." He should have lied, Daryl thought. He had never talked to anyone about Merle, about their situation. And fuck, here he was, spilling his guts in front of a cop. "Had ta. Jus'. Needed time. 'm sorry."

The archer didn't know if he had done well, if he had pleased Rick with his hushed confession, and apology. He couldn't bring himself to look up, to see the expression on Ricks face. If the cop was disgusted, he didn't want to see it.

"Whats he in for?" Rick inquired, finally settling onto the bar stool beside the redneck.

"Possesion." Admitted quietly, not wanting to broadcast this to the other patrons of the bar. This was something he wanted only Rick to know, as crazy as it sounded. He had just met this guy, hadn't even really spoken to him and yet..

"You do that too?" Daryl scoffed, shaking his head.

"Nah. I don' touch that shit. 's just Merle. I drink, smoke my cigarettes. 's it."

They fell silent after that, sipping from their drinks. It was the most comfortable Daryl had been with anyone in his entire life. Rick _did_ things to him. Made him feel safe and relaxed, as if nothing could touch the archer, as long as he was close to Rick.

He had just finished off his beer when Rick stood, gingerly placing his fingertips on Daryls wrist. The skin to skin contact caused the archers skin to tingle, made his cheeks heat up, and _shit_ , he couldn't be fucking _blushing_ from a touch that innocent.

"Come on. Wanna smoke." It was a command more than anything else, and Daryl had no intention do defy Rick. He stood, paid his beer, and moved outside, Rick following him silently. Once outside, Daryl pulled out his cigarettes, handing one over to the officer before getting one for himself. It felt natural to defer to Ricks will, he realized, as they stood and smoked silently. In fact, it felt _good_. Handing off responsibility, even if it was only over small matters, like when to go out and smoke, or stay and have another drink.

"Ya got anyone but yer brother?" Daryl wanted to growl at that question. Wanted to tell Rick it was none of his business, because it _really wasn't_. He had always hated talking about his family, had avoided it even as a kid. He'd never wanted anyone's pity, had never wanted them to look at him like he was weak.

"Come on Daryl. Can tell me. I ain't gonna tell anyone else." Rick soothed, once more picking up on the sudden tension in the archers muscles, but this time he didn't back down. "Jus' wanna know more about ya."

"..Don' have no one else." Daryl had to force himself to say it, had to push the words out of himself, because no matter how comfortable he felt with Rick, this.. it was so _personal_ , and Daryl had never done personal well. He expected Rick to say "I'm sorry", or some other bullshit thing people always said when they heard he was alone.

"Thank ya, Daryl. Fer tellin' me." Rick said instead, moving his hand to brush across Daryls wrist. "Bein' real good fer me."

And there it was again. That flutter low in Daryls stomach, making him want to gasp, to sink to his knees and nuzzle the cops strong thigh while strong fingers combed through his hair. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get _closer_. He wanted-.. Fuck, what _did_ he want?

"Thinkin' so loud I can hear ya." Rick teased, his voice low, tone playful. "Whats on yer mind?"

And fuck it. He was going for it.

"You." Daryl snapped. "Been thinkin' 'bout you since the day I saw ya the first time. Don' know what ya wan' from me. Don' know why ya bother talkin' ta me."

"Well, let me tell you then." Rick relied smoothly, moving his lips right next to Daryls ear. The hot breath against his skin made Daryl shiver, but nothing had prepared him for what came next. "Wan' ta take ya home. Wan' ta tie ya to my bed, touch ya, taste ya.. Make ya beg fer it, like a good boy. An' then I wanna fuck ya so hard ya forget yer own name. 'till all ya can do is scream my name. Wanna make ya come so hard ya can't see straight."

And _god fucking damn it_ , that was definitely one of the hottest things Daryl had ever heard, his cock going from soft to _hard enough to cut glass_ within seconds, his entire body thrumming with desire, because that sounded like _fucking heaven_.

"Who said I'd let ya?" Daryl asked, despite his body's obvious reaction, that Rick had no doubt caught.

"Ya would." Rick sounded confident, and Daryl was torn between simply agreeing, and punching him in the face for being so fucking cocky. "But that ain't gonna happen tonight, anyway. Ain't ready yet, Daryl."

"What'cha mean, I ain't ready?" Daryl snapped. "Ain't no fuckin' virgin."

"I know yer not." Rick stated matter-of-factually, dropping his cigarette to the floor. "Jus' trust me when I say, yer ain't ready. Maybe I ain't, neither."

"Gettin' second thought about fuckin' the dirty, ugly redneck?" Daryl gruffed, fighting down the overwhelming sense of rejection, because this was obviously what it was about.

"That's enough." Daryls chin was grabbed roughly, and out of reflex alone, he took a swing at Rick, only to have his arm blocked, and pinned by his side. Rick was staring at him, eyes narrowed, lips set into a thin line. "Don' wanna hear ya talkin' 'bout yerself like that again, ya hear me? Ain't ugly. An' ya ain't dirty. Don' say that shit about yerself. You understand?"

Daryl was definitely out of his element here, thrown completely off balance by the cops actions. The grip on his chin was firm, but not painful, simply keeping his from breaking eye contact. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to _fight_ , to get away from Rick and never look back, that this wasn't smart, wasn't _right_..

"Yeah. I- I understand." He chocked out, squirming ever so slightly.

"I wan' a whole sentence, Daryl." Rick demanded, leaning towards the archer until their lips were only inches apart. "Come on. Be good fer me."

"Not-." Daryl broke off, inhaling sharply as he felt his wrist being released, a broad hand placing itself on his hip, his body trembling at the proximity, cock so hard it was almost painful "Not gonna talk like that 'bout myself again. Gonna-. Gonna be good."

"That's it. Good boy." Rick breathed, pressing their foreheads together for the briefest moment before pulling back and releasing the redneck completely.

Daryl wanted to reply, wanted to say something, anything- But he couldn't come up with anything that made much sense. As it was, there was no time to say anything left. Seconds after Rick had stopped touching him, the cops phone started to ring. He watched Rick pull it from his pants, glance down at the screen, and sigh.

"Its work." He said, shaking his head. "Probably callin' me back in."

"A'right. Better get goin' then." Daryl shoved his hands into his pockets, head lowered.

"Can I see you again tomorrow?" Daryl wanted to say No. That this was too much, too intense, too-

"Yeah. I'll be here." Daryl glanced at the cop, biting his lower lip, hoping he didn't look half as nervous and disappointed as he felt.

"Thank you, Daryl. I'll see you then."

And with that, their ways parted for another night, leaving Daryl only one thing to look forward to.

He'd get to see Rick again tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Daryl couldn't wait to get back home from work.

He had never really liked working for Joe, especially because his shitfaced son Len seemed to take pleasure in annoying the fuck out of the redneck, to get him in trouble with his old man. Today was even worse, the hours ticking by agonizingly slow. And then, just when he was about to get off, some jackass came in with a busted up Impala, and Daryl had been forced to stay behind and give the car a once-over.

The vehicle was in a sad state, and he'd have more than enough work fixing it up tomorrow. He even told the guy that it would be cheaper to just get a new one, especially in the long run. The man didn't seem to care, green eyes firm as he told Daryl he wanted, as he called it, 'baby' back up and running as soon as possible.

Daryl got home half an hour later than he had originally intended, which meant he'd have less time to get ready. Not that he actually knew what that entailed. Daryl had never wasted time on thinking about his looks, or his clothes. He had thrown on whatever he could find that fit. His momma had bought him clothes every now and then, back when she'd been alive. But she had been gone for a long time, and after that, every piece of clothing he owned had been either handed down by Merle, or from the second hand store.

Didn't really matter, he thought, stepping under the warm spray of water after waiting ten minutes for the water to actually heat up. No matter what he wore, his face was his face, he couldn't really change it. And his face wasn't exactly appealing. In fact, Daryl had always thought of himself as ugl-

 _That's enough. "Don' wanna hear ya talkin' 'bout yerself like that again, ya hear me? Ain't ugly. An' ya ain't dirty. Don' say that shit about yerself. You understand?_

"Fuck." He breathed the word into his shower, running a hand through his hair, chewing on his lower lip, worrying the flesh.

He'd met Rick _twice_ , and already the man had found his way into Daryls head, had burned his words into his mind, and no matter how hard the archer tried, he'd never forget them. And while he technically hadn't been _saying_ anything bad about himself, somehow he knew that Rick wouldn't like him _thinking_ it either.

He couldn't do anything about his face, but he could damn well make sure he was spotless, scrub off the sweat, grease and oil from his body until there was nothing left but skin and the scent of cheap soap. Was Rick the kind to wear cologne, or did he prefer plain old soap? Would Daryl be able to get close enough to take a good wiff of the cops scent tonight, or would he be left wondering?

His cock was starting to take an interest, gradually hardening as Daryl fantasized, thinking about what it would be like to nuzzle the officers neck, inhale deeply, drown himself in his scent. He'd press open mouthed kisses onto the sensitive skin, nip at the cops jaw.. Before Daryl knew what he was doing, he took hold of his cock, giving it a slow, yet firm tug, moaning softly.

"Rick.." He husked, eyes falling shut, imagining it was Ricks hand on his cock, stroking him at a torturous pace, making him whimper with want. He remembered Rick telling him he'd make him beg for it, would tie him down and take him- His cock jerked in his hand, pre-come already oozing out of the tiny slit, mixing with the water that cascaded down the archers body.

He wouldn't beg, even if Rick took him home tonight. Because Daryl fucking Dixon didn't _beg_ , he just didn't. He'd keep it together until Rick couldn't wait anymore, couldn't stand another second of teasing, and just _fuck him_ -

 _Come on, now. Know ya can be good fer me_.

"Shit." Daryl gasped, wanting so badly to stroke himself faster, but not quite able to actually _do_ it, because.. because.. "Ah, _shit_. Fuckin'- Rick, _please_."

 _That's it. Good boy._

Daryl groaned, finally allowing himself to stroke faster, to buck his hips, fuck into his fist. Nothing else matter then, as images of Rick danced through his head, grinning at him, touching his hip, breathing out the words Daryl hadn't even known he wanted to hear. It took only a handful of strokes before he was coming, throwing his head back to let out drawn out moan, spurting copious amounts of seed onto the wall and the shower floor.

Panting, the archer moved forward to place his forehead against the tiled wall before him, refusing to open his eyes and encounter the evidence of what he'd done. Getting off to the thoughts of a cop telling him what to do, making him so desperate for something that Daryl couldn't even name. All he knew was that he wanted _more_.

And so, after his breathing had slowed, Daryl started washing every inch on his body that he could reach, paying special attention to his nether regions, just in case. No matter how the evening ended, he was prepared.

Maybe he should have spent more time thinking about what to wear, Daryl thought, sitting at the bar, sipping on his beer, much like the night before. On this night, though, Daryl had actually taken the time to fish his nicest clothes out of the duffel bag, a simple black T-shirt and a pair of gray jeans with a single rip in it, right above the archers right knee.

It had been depressing to go through the few items of clothing he had, and realizing that they were all all either ripped or worn thin, most adorned by stains from the motor oil he worked with. This wasn't ideal either, but it would have to do. Maybe with Merle in prison, Daryl could go and buy himself a pair of jeans, and a few shirts that hadn't previously belonged to anyone. Maybe he'd ask Rick about his favorite color, if he could manage to sneak the question into the conversation casually. His angel wing vest had stayed home tonight, mainly because he hadn't gotten a chance to go down to the stream and wash it recently.

Daryl had been here for thirty minutes, and despite not having decided on a time to meet, he couldn't help the anxiety slowly rising within. What if Rick _had_ just been messing with him? He was probably sitting somewhere with his cop friends, laughing about the stupid redneck that was waiting for him, because even if Rick was gay, he could do a lot better than Daryl.

"Thinkin' too loud again, Daryl." For the second time, Rick had managed to scare the fuck out of the archer in as many times, and did that man ever make a _single fucking sound_ when he moved?! "Heard ya from all the way outside."

Daryl gave a grunt, lowering his head to avoid Ricks perfect fucking eyes. The cop would be giving him that intense look again, as if he was looking straight into the rednecks skull, reading every single thought that played in Daryls mind.

"Finish that up." Rick said, moving just close enough to be in the archers personal space, fingertips brushing against the archers lower back for just the fraction of a second. "Want ta take ya somewhere."

"Where?" Daryl asked, trying to regain his equilibrium, because even with the layer of fabric separating their skin, it was like he'd been burnt, heat radiating outwards from where Rick had touched him.

"'s a surprise." Rick replied, and finally, Daryl found the strength to look into the cops face, once more taking in just how attractive Rick really was. Fuck, he could stare at that face for hours, could listen to Rick talk for even longer.

"I'm not gonna end up like the victim in one of them shitty daytime cop shows, am I?" That made Rick laugh, prompting Daryl to give a small smile, no matter how hard the archer tried to keep a straight face. Ricks laughter was infectious, his joy almost tangible. He wanted to make Rick laugh again and again, memorize the sound, so he could recall it over and over, until the day he died.

"Come on. Lets get goin'."

Daryl nodded, draining the last of the liquid in his glass, hastily paying for his drink, handing over money to the female that had been working the first time he'd come here. Rick was already walking towards the door, and Daryl quickened his steps, catching up with the cop just as he made his way outside. They turned left, the streets mostly empty save for the occasional car driving by them.

"Have a good day?" Rick asked, glancing at the archer, watching carefully as Daryl pulled out his smokes, handing one over to the other male without even being asked. It was just something they did now, share Daryls smokes while talking. "Thank ya, Daryl."

"'suppose." Daryl replied, shrugging in a manner that he hoped looked casual. "Yerself?"

"Was fine. Long." The archer nodded. He knew that feeling all too well, when all you wanted to do was lay in bed after a busy day at work..

"Don' have ta be here, ya know." Despite his efforts, Daryls voice wavered just the tiniest bit. He didn't want Rick to leave, wanted to be selfish and ask Rick to stay with him. But if the cop was tired, he should get sleep, not take a walk. "Can go home, if yer tired."

Ricks steps stilled, and so Daryl stopped moving too, turning to face the officer, brows furrowed slightly. This was it, Rick would pat Daryl on the back and thank him. They'd walk back to the bar, and Rick would get into his car and go home. Maybe he'd never come back.

Once again, Rick did exactly the opposite from what Daryl had expected.

Blue eyes captured Daryl, made him want to whimper at the piercing gaze, successfully distracting him for long enough until Rick made his move, catching the redneck completely off guard as he placed a hand against the side of Daryls neck, thumb brushing along the line of his jaw, and then his cheek. He could barely react before his attention was forced to a hand at his hips, squeezing gently, thumb brushing upwards, under his t-shirt and over bare skin.

"Wanna be here." Rick told him, faces so close together that he could feel the cops warm breath against his lips, and it would be so easy to just lean forward and _fucking do it_ \- But they were in public. Anyone could see them standing here, and fuck, if Merle got word of this.. "Don' ya wanna be here, Daryl? With me?"

The questioned snapped Daryl out of his sudden panic, forcing him to focus so he could answer, because Rick would want him to, not just with a nod or a look, but actual words. The archer inhaled sharply, steeling himself, gathering all the courage he could before replying.

"Wanna." He breathed, before hastily adding. "Wanna be here. Wanna be.."

"Gotta tell me what ya wan', Daryl. " Ricks voice had gotten even more alluring, sounding lower than before, rougher.. and maybe Daryl wasn't the only one that felt it, this _thing_ between them. "Can't give it ta ya if I don' know what it is ya want, now, can I?"

"Wanna be with you." Daryl breathed the words out of him, feeling something deep inside him coming undone, something even more confusing than the flutter of before. It felt warm, and safe, and it spread through him like wildfire. Ricks reply only made this a million times better.

"Yer amazin' Daryl, ya know that?" The cop chuckled, moving his body even closer to the archers, mere inches separating them from touching. Daryl stood straighter, chest puffing out with pride, because apparently he had done well, had pleased Rick, and there was no better feeling in the entire fucking _universe_ than the one currently burning through his veins, setting him alight. He didn't even think to protest the statement, there was no way he was _amazing_ , but right now all he could think about was how much he loved when Rick smiled at him. "Wanna be with ya too. But I got other plans fer us tonight. Come on."

Despite the disappointment Daryl felt, knowing that Rick wouldn't take him home and do all the things he had promised, the archer followed the officers lead, walking in silence, side by side. A few minutes later it seemed they had reached their destination, and Daryl quickly realized that he had been lead to the city's park. It was a fleck of green in the concrete jungle, where the city folk could go and pretend they knew what it was like to be in the middle of nature. Daryl didn't ask how the cop knew that this was a much more comforting environment to him than the tall, cold building that surrounded the bar.

There were only a few other people within, mostly seniors walking their dogs, a young couple here and there.. And him and Rick. It seemed odd, to be in a park with another guy, but for tonight, Daryl didn't want to think about what this looked like. And Rick wasn't even touching him, just leading the way, and Daryl wasn't sure if that made him feel relieved or upset.

They settled on the lush lawn, a few feet from a pond, the sun already lowering itself to the horizon. The silence should have been unnerving, but instead of becoming tense as he usually would, Daryl felt his muscles relax, felt like a weight was being lifted off his chest. He didn't have to say, or prove, anything to Rick. If the cop wanted him to speak, he'd start a conversation. It was _okay_ to not know what the hell he was doing, because _Rick knew what to do._ Daryl couldn't think of anyone he had trusted that much in his entire life, not even his momma.

The sun was half swallowed by the horizon by the time Rick did speak again, watching a family of ducks still swimming in the pond, looking so utterly peaceful that Daryl wished he had a camera on him. Rick was beautiful, sitting with his legs stretched out before him, hands placed in the grass behind him, resting his weight on his palms, face lit up with.. content, maybe? Whatever it was, Daryl wanted to burn this moment into his mind.

"Tell me somethin' about ya no one else knows. Don' have ta be nothin' big." It seemed an odd request, but Daryl immediately tried to come up with something he could share, something not even Merle knew, something..

"Saw a chupacabra once. Was huntin', and I saw it." He regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth, because Rick was going to think he was _insane_. Who the _fuck_ started talking about a blood sucking goat that most people didn't even believe was real. He was once more tense, the muscles in his arms, legs and back coiled tight, because in just a second Rick would start laughing, and Daryl would be able to jump on his feet and storm off-

"Daryl." Ricks hand was him again, brushing fingertips against the back of his hand, and in that moment it felt like pity, like Rick was trying to sooth him because he had lost his _fucking mind_. It was unbearable, and Daryl snatched his hand away, coming to stand on his feet, wanting to get _away_ -

"Daryl, _stop_." Rick voice was firm, left no room to argue, froze Daryl in place. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was _happening_ to him, what was Rick _doing_ to him? His breathing became shallow, rushed out of him with increasing speed, anxiety flaring in his chest.

"Jus' breath." Rick was standing before him, hands lifted to show the archer he wasn't going to touch him, wasn't going to _hurt him_. "Know ya can do it, Daryl. Jus' gotta breath, nice and slow, a'right? Think ya can do that fer me? Be my good boy?"

The archer struggled, his body trembling with barely contained fear, and he was about to make a run for it when he caught Ricks eyes with his own, seeing something in the blue pools,an expression Daryl recognized on the cops face. An emotion that that had never been directed at him. Worry. Rick was worried. About _Daryl_. And fuck, he didn't want Rick to worry, didn't want to cause him any distress, because Rick had been so _good_ to him. And so he swallowed, swallowed again, and finally nodded, focusing on filling his lungs deeply on the next inhale, letting the air escape his lungs slowly on the exhale.

"That's it Daryl. Doin' real good. Keep goin', darlin', just keep breathin'." Ricks encouragement was enough reason to repeat the action, again and again, until his breathing had settled into a normal rhythm once more. It felt almost surreal, standing in a park with a cop. A cop that seemed to want Daryl, for reasons the archer couldn't understand, that was willing to endure how fucking _jumpy_ Daryl was around him.

"A'right now?" The brunette asked after a few more moments, the silence only interrupted by Daryls breathing. The archer gave a nod, biting into the flesh of his lip, taking a step towards Rick, without knowing what made him do so.

"'m sorry. Didn' mean ta- .. 'm sorry." He mumbled, casting his gaze onto the floor, shoulders hunched. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. Rick surely had had some kind of plan in mind, and he had fucked it up, had ruined everything. If the cop turned and left, Daryl would have understood. Everyone eventually left, even Merle. There was no reason to think Rick would be different.

"Daryl, 's fine. Look at me." And Daryl obeyed, if hesitantly, once more locking eyes with the cop. "Wanna touch ya, Daryl. That okay?"

"Yeah. 's fine." Only seconds later, Rick had taken the archers hand into his own, entwining their fingers, and Daryl allowed it. Ricks palm was warm against his own, his grip just firm enough to be comforting, reassuring even.

"Gotta tell me if 's too much." Rick whispered, moving closer, pressing their foreheads together as he had the night before. Unlike then however, Rick didn't break the contact between their bodies a moment later, but stayed still, eyes shut. It gave Daryl the chance to study this face closer, to memorize the small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, invisible unless you really _looked_ , the way Ricks nose seemed to curve to right left ever so slightly, probably from having his nose broken. His lips were smooth, full, and Daryl wondered if they felt as soft as they appeared to be. "Answer me, Daryl. Use yer words."

"Gonna tell ya if 's too much." Daryl didn't have to think, he just replied, and it was so freeing, not having to think about the shit he usually did. What people would think of him, what they'd say, what _Merle_ thought about him, not wondering if what he had said sounded stupid. Rick took it all away.

"Good boy, Daryl. Bein' so good fer me.. Fuck." God, he'd never heard Rick curse before, but it sounded absolutely obscene, like he only did it when his control slipped, something he muttered under his breath for no one else to hear. It took a split second for Daryl to decide that he wanted to make Rick curse again, in any way he could, wanted to make the other man become undone, like he was coming undone. Wanted Rick to be as desperate as Daryl was.

"Wanna be good fer ya. Since the day I met ya." The archer husked, feeling desire rising, sending a tremor up his spine. "Been thinkin' 'bout it all the time. 'bout makin' ya happy, bein' good fer ya, like ya wan' me ta."

This was easily the most embarrassing confession Daryl had made in his life, but Ricks reaction was _so fucking worth it_. A quiet gasp came from parted lips, another hushed 'Fuck, Daryl.' lingering between them, and _ohgodyes_ , it was fucking _amazing_ to see Rick like this, to feel him so close.. Daryl was greedy, he wanted _more_ , more words pouring out of him.

"Please, Rick. Wanna be yer good boy. Wan' ya ta tie me down, make me beg.." He wasn't lying, not even a little, no matter what he'd tell himself in bed tonight, when reality hit him like a freight train. Right now, it was only them, and Rick liked what he heard so obviously, Daryl wondered if he could push him into even more, maybe get the officer to take him home after all. "Wanna-"

He was cut off as Ricks lips crashed into his, stopping Daryls heart mid-beat, needing a second to process what was happening. His mind caught up, and then he was kissing back, tangling the hand not currently being held into brown locks, allowing Ricks tongue to push into his mouth, to explore every inch of it, and if he died right now, Daryl would die the happiest man on earth. It was utter bliss to feel Rick against him, to feel a strong arm wrap around his waist, coming to rest on the small of his back, pulling him in closer, bodies finally _really touching_ for the very first time.

The archers cock hardened in record time against the cops thigh, and Rick swallowed down the moan that ripped itself from deep in his chest, could barely believe he was actually making out with _Rick fuckin' Grimes_ , but here he was, letting Rick take as he pleased, let him lead the entire situation, and there was no way Daryl could keep his hips from rocking forward when he felt something hot, and incredibly hard rub against his thigh. Rick was hard. Rick was _really_ hard. _For Daryl_. And fuck, wasn't that just the most perfect thing in the world?

As quickly as the kiss had started, it ended, Rick pulling back with a rapid motion, moving away until once more, only their hands were touching. His breathing was labored, just like Daryls, and even in the darkness that had settled around them, Daryl could see Ricks cock twitching against the zipper of his jeans. But then, if he had liked it so much, why had he stopped?

Oh fuck, Daryl had disappointed him somehow, had done something wrong, had _made_ Rick stop, and shit, he had to do something, had to make it up to the man, had to-

"Stop, Daryl. Whatever yer thinkin', stop." Ricks voice was still somewhat rough, but quickly recovering the smooth quality it held when the officer wasn't turned on. "Jus' need a moment. Need ta calm down 'fore I do somethin' stupid and take ya home."

"Could take me home." Daryl insisted, wanting so badly to press himself back against the cops body it almost hurt.

"I know I could. Shouldn'. Not yet." Rick shook his head, but seemed to have gathered his wits, gently tugging the archers hand, still firmly clasped in his own. "Lets sit back down."

"Gotta tell me why." Daryl grunted, but complied with Ricks wishes, lowering himself back onto the grass beside the brunette. "Why ya won' take me home."

"'s complicated." Rick answered, lowering his head, something Daryl had never witnessed before. He looked almost vulnerable now, as if Daryl had pushed into something he wasn't supposed to. But he _needed_ to know.

"I got time." Rick chuckled at that, rubbing a hand over his face, and finally nodding.

"Part of it is what I like. Ya know, in bed." A sigh, and then Rick continued. "Ya ever heard of BDSM?"

"Heard 'bout it." Daryl vaguely remembered hearing conversations about that topic at Merle's dealer, but he hadn't bothered to pay much attention. What he did know was that it involved binding, and toys. Sometimes even blades. He wasn't sure how he felt about the last one, but the first two seemed fine. "Not much, though."

"'s fine. Its a lot ta explain, so I'm jus' gonna tell ya the basics, an' we can talk about it more when we're not in public." Rick glanced at the archer, as if he was trying to figure out if this would make Daryl run. "There's Dominants and Submissives. Those terms are pretty self-explanatory, I think. Basically, its about two things. Control, and trust. The Submissive hands over control, because he or she trusts the Dominant to take care of them, to give them what they need. And the Dominant in turn cares for the Sub, in any way they agree on." Another sigh, and then a deep breath. "I.. enjoy bein' the one in control. I enjoy havin' someone trustin' me like that. Fer different reasons that I don' wan' ta get into right now. I didn' know if that was somethin' ya were open ta."

Daryl took a few moments to ponder the information he had been given, and Rick seemed to just _know_ , remaining silent while Daryls mind worked. Finally, the archer spoke.

"Said that was part of it. Whats the other?"

"Haven' taken anyone home since.." Rick broke off, and now it was Daryls turn to worry, watching carefully as Rick tilted his head back, staring into the sky. Giving the cops hand a gentle squeeze was all he could do, hoping it would make whatever Rick had to say easier. Hoping that his presence was comforting to the other. "Since my wife and kid died."

Shit. Daryl had always been bad with these situations, usually avoided them by simply taking off. But he couldn't do that now, not with Rick. He couldn't.

"'m sorry." Daryl breathed, hoping that it was enough, that Rick would know what the archer felt, but couldn't express properly. He felt sorrow for the mans loss, and for his pain, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, to do something to take the pain away.

"Thanks." Rick sighed again, turning his head to look at the archer, giving him a crooked smile. "Guess this isn't what ya expected, huh? Me ramblin' on-"

"Don' mind." Daryl immediately interrupted, narrowing his eyes, giving another firm squeeze of his hand. "Wanna know everythin'."

"I'll tell ya everythin', I promise. But that was 'nough fer one night." Rick smiled, but even the smile seemed somehow tainted by sadness, and Daryl hated it. The need to make Rick happy was overpowering, and he was just about to open his mouth to speak, when Rick beat him to it.

"'s not all of it, though." Daryls mouth closed, brows furrowing again, listening intently. "..Never really felt like this 'bout anyone before. Not even her. Scares the fuck outta me, if I'm honest. But I can't stay away from ya, neither."

That, Daryl hadn't expected. Rick being drawn to him. Feeling the same way as the archer did. It was scary, for both of them.

"...Feel it, too. Can't stay away." Daryl mumbled, biting down on his lip, this kind of open conversation entirely foreign to him, and yet somehow liberating.

"'m glad, Daryl. Really am." Then, silence. Moments spent just looking, really _seeing_ each other, neither willing to break whatever was going on between them, connecting them in a way Daryl had never experienced before. Time seemed suspended, and when Rick finally did flick his eyes away, the archer didn't know if minutes, or hours had passed.

"Should get goin' back. Got work in the mornin'." Rick stood, carefully pulling Daryl up with him, hands still firmly locked together, and Daryl didn't want to let go right now. In fact, he never wanted to let go. Wanted to keep his hand pressed firmly against Ricks until he took his last breath.

But that wasn't possible. They could get away with this in the park at night. But when they returned to the streets, made their way back to the bar.. Someone could see.

"Yeah. Got work tomorrow, too." Daryl sighed, averting his eyes as he slowly slid his hand out of Ricks, giving him an apologetic glance. "..Can' let my brother find out."

It was all the explanation Daryl was willing to give right now, but once more Rick didn't push him. He simply accepted it, and soon they were walking to the parking lot beside the bar, silently. There had been so much talking tonight, so many things to think about, that the silence was refreshing. Being able to enjoy Ricks presence without the need to make conversation had quickly become one of the archers favorite things in this world.

Now, his favorite thing was obviously kissing Rick. That kiss had been _mind blowing_ , even if he had been too stunned to pick up on Ricks scent. The feeling of Ricks tongue against his, the way he had touched him.. Daryl would be thinking about this every single time he pleasured himself from now on, no doubt.

Rick walked Daryl to his pick up, and then they stood there, still exchanging not a single word.

"..I got night shifts fer a couple days, now. Won' be able ta come see ya here." Daryl felt a sharp tug at his heart, but nodded. Rick had to work, it wouldn't be fair to make him feel bad for it, just because Daryl would miss him. "Gimme yer hand."

Daryl wanted to protest at first, because they were right out in the open, any patron of the bar that came out would see them, everyone from the street- But Rick wouldn't do anything to make him uncomfortable. He never had. And so Daryl lifted his hand up, letting Rick take hold of it, palm up, pulling a pen from his pocket. The scribbling against his palm made his fingers twitch, made him huff out a chuckle.

"Tickles." He supplied when Rick glanced up from his work. The cop nodded, and continued his task. When he finished, Daryl glanced at his palm, greeted by a sequence of numbers.

"...Could call after work. If ya wan' ta. Probably get off when I'm 'bout to start my shift." Joy flooded Daryl from head to toe. A phone number. Rick wanted the archer to be able to reach him. Wanted to talk to him, even when they couldn't meet.

"Yeah, I can. I can do that." Rick chuckled, nodded and took a step back.

"Should get in the car now. Go home, get some sleep." Daryl nodded, moving to unlock the car, wishing that he could at least kiss Rick goodnight, something to show the cop that he _really cared_. As it was, he had to trust that Rick knew , that he had somehow read it in Daryls eyes, or voice. He turned his head, glancing at Rick over his shoulder.

"Night." He mumbled, opening the door, climbing into the driver seat. Rick stepped forward, placing a hand on the car door, stopping the archer from closing it.

"Good night, Daryl. Don' forget ta be good an' call me after work."

And then the door was shut, and Rick was walking away to his car. Daryl barely resisted the urge to jump out and chase the cop. Get into his car and let him do that stupid thing he had mentioned earlier that night. Using every ounce of willpower he had left, Daryl started the engine and made his way home.

Tomorrow, after work, he'd call Rick. He'd be good for him. He'd be everything Rick wanted

He'd be Ricks good boy.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl hated his job. _Hated_ it.

Not because he didn't like being a mechanic. He enjoyed that part a lot. It was the owners kid that drove him fucking _insane_ And he'd been in such a good mood that morning.

He had woken, feeling rested like never before. Rick wanted him. Had kissed him. Wanted so badly to take Daryl home that he had to force himself to resist that urge. And however much the archer would have liked to get fucked by the cop, he somehow loved _this_ even more. Rick wasn't taking him home because he didn't want to hurt him, and fuck, no one had ever done anything like that. Merle sure as hell had never thought about what was good for the younger Dixon. He had just done whatever he wanted, and let Daryl deal with it.

So he had gotten up with a damn smirk, threw on the cleanest clothes he could find, and drove to work. He would have to get down to the stream after calling Rick, get his clothes clea- Except Merle wasn't there to bitch about Daryl wasting hot water on his clothing. He could wash them in the bathroom sink, and avoid the trip into the woods. It made his day even better, since that meant he could talk to Rick as much as he wanted without having to worry about losing daylight.

He had put the officers number into his phone the second he got home, opting to put it under Ricks initials, just in case Merle ever got his hands on Daryl's phone. It was safer that way. If Merle ever found out he was a queer, he'd beat him to a pulp, and probably kill the man he was bending over for. He couldn't risk that, could _never_ risk Ricks safety. His brother was a dangerous man, and cop or not, if he got the drop on Rick, it'd end bloody for them all.

He didn't want to think about that, though. That morning he had pushed all the shit aside and let himself be happy for the first time in forever. But of course, that didn't last long.

He had just gotten to the Impala (that would no doubt take at least two days to be fixed up), when Len was suddenly beside him.

"Hey, is that a smile Dixon? Don' think I've ever seen ya do that. You finally get laid or somethin'?" Daryl didn't reply. Even if he had gotten some, that jerk was the last person on earth he would have talked to it about. "Aw, come on man! Don' be like that. Was she ugly? That why ya don' wanna talk 'bout it?"

"Ain't none of yer business, man." Daryl replied, trying to stay calm, to not let that piece of shit get to him. But Len didn't back off.

"Oh, was she one of 'em little ones? Ya know, not quite legal?" Daryl could feel his hand clenching around the tire iron he was holding, could hear his blood rushing in his ears. "Yeah, that's it. Got yerself a sweet, innocent piece of tail, huh Dixon?"

Daryl had to bite his lip to keep himself from telling Len to piss the fuck off, and oh, by the way, he didn't like girls, especially not when they were underage. But of course Len would be the kind of pervert that liked girls with fucking learners permits.

"Said it ain't none of yer business." He ground out between clenched teeth, his fingers itching with the need to beat the man standing before him. But he couldn't. He needed the money, and there wasn't a snowballs chance that anyone else would hire someone like him.

"Len, get yer ass ta work boy!" Joe yelled from the office, and for once Daryl was genuinely grateful the old man was here. Len finally left him alone, and he could concentrate on his work.

It was 6 p.m., and Daryl knew he wasn't going to get out of work on time. Len had left early, after Joe had already gone home, leaving Daryl to clean and lock the place up. He hesitated, thinking about at least texting Rick to let him know he'd take longer to get home, but didn't. Mostly because he didn't want to bother Rick twice in one day, but also because Daryl was nervous. What would he say? He'd never really talked to anyone on the phone, save his brother. This was different though. What if he said something stupid?

By the time he was in his car and en route to the shack, it was 7.30. He'd kept Rick waiting longer than intended. What if Rick was mad? Fishing his cell from his pocket, he glanced at it for a second, returning his eyes to the road again. It took him a bit to get Ricks number on the screen, having to make sure he didn't accidentally run over someone. He took one last steadying breath before he pressed the call button and held it to his ear.

"Grimes here." God, Daryl had forgotten how much he loved that voice.

"Hey. Its me." God, that sounded stupid. Why hadn't he come up with something to say _before_ calling?

"Daryl. Yer callin' later than I thought ya would."

"Got held up at work. Had ta close up alone." Okay, that sounded better. He could do this.

"Ya drivin, Daryl?" Daryl just grunted in reply. "Ya shouldn' drive and talk on the phone, darlin'. 's against the law."

"So? Ya gonna punish me fer it or somethin'?" Daryl bratted, turning off the street and onto the dirt road that lead home. "Almos' home anyway. Didn' wanna keep ya waitin'. Got work ta do."

"Its been quiet so far." The sheriff sounded amused, Daryl could almost _hear_ the grin the cops lips were no doubt curled into right now. "An' don' tempt me. Might actually go through with it. Find out where ya live, show up in the mornin'. Make sure ya don' do it again."

Shit.

The prospect of punishment didn't seem appealing. Punishment with his dad had been brutal. Had left him covered in scars. But he couldn't see Rick wanting to beat someone like his dad had. This had to be part of his.. lifestyle.

"Ya still there, darlin'?" Rick sounded concerned now. Maybe wondering if he had thrown Daryl off. If maybe, this wasn't something he was willing to do.

"Yea, jus'. Thinking." He mumbled, pulling up outside his house, and killing the motor. He didn't get out, instead reclining against the seat, trying to figure out what to do next. "How.. How do ya..?"

He couldn't finish the sentence, too embarrassed to make himself form the words.

"How do I punish mine?" Daryl gave a grunt. "Well.. There's different ways, really. Sometimes, I don' let them speak unless spoken ta. Or make 'em wait ta come, hours, a few days.. depends on what they did wrong."

"So, ya don'. Ya know.. Hurt them?" It was a stupid question. Rick wasn't the type to hurt someone, not like his daddy or Merle. They threw punches at fucking _everything_.

"No, Daryl. I don' hurt them as punishment."

"But ya do hurt 'em?" Daryl felt himself tense. Okay, so maybe Rick didn't beat people for punishment, but maybe he slapped them around during sex. Maybe he needed to hurt someone to get off, maybe he got himself into something he couldn't handle, and fuck, if Rick _needed_ that, and he couldn't give it? What if-

"Yer thinkin' so loud again I can hear it." Ricks voice was soothing, even with the thoughts racing through his mind. "Ain't do nothin' they don' ask for. Wouldn' do anythin' _you_ don' ask for, Daryl. It has ta be consensual. An' I'm not talkin' branding or somethin' like that. More like.. Spanking."

"Spanking." Daryl repeated quietly, eyes falling shut. He'd definitely never let anyone do that before. But.. Images came to life in his mind, Daryl across Ricks leg, naked from the waist down, Ricks hand coming down on his ass.. His dick gave a twitch, clearly interested, and okay, maybe he could deal with spanking. "Think I could. Could try that."

"Shit, Daryl." Rick chuckled. "Can't talk like that now, darlin'. 'm at work. Lucky my partner is still doin' paper work, or this would've been real awkward."

Fuck. Daryl hadn't even thought about the fact that Rick was at work, and really shouldn't be having this kind of conversation.

"Sorry. Didn' mean ta make ya uncomfortable." Daryl sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Didn'. 'm alone in the break room. Gotta wait for Michonne ta finish up a report, 'fore we hit the streets." The archer relaxed, giving a small nod before realizing Rick couldn't see him.

"Good. 'm glad." Daryl felt.. Well, he didn't really know how he felt right now. They both remained silent for a few minutes, listening to each other breathe, and Daryl found himself dozing off.

"Hey, Daryl? Gotta get goin'." Daryl wanted to ask for just a few more minutes, just so he could rest a little longer. Forget about the shit day he had and fall asleep to the sound of Rick breathing. But Rick had to work , and the archer couldn't be greedy. Not with how much Rick was already giving him. He was about to grunt a goodbye and hang up when Rick continued. "When do ya get up?"

"Six a.m. Why?"

"Can I call ya then? Wan' ta hear yer voice 'fore I go ta bed." Daryls heart stuttered at that, having to swallow before he could reply.

"Yea, sure. Jus' can't talk long." He hoped Rick would call him anyway, that he didn't say 'Nevermind then', and make Daryl wait until the evening to call, if that was an option at all. Just because Rick had let him call tonight didn't mean he'd tell him to do it again.

"That's a'right, darlin'. Thank ya for lettin' me. Bein' so good fer me."

Daryl shivered, humming a wordless reply, because if he opened his mouth now, he'd surely say something embarrassing.

"Sleep well, Daryl. I'll talk ta ya in the mornin'."

Daryl woke to his phone ringing right beside his ear, groaning as he awkwardly fumbled for it, blinking rapidly to clear his sight.

"'llo?" He grunted into the speaker, once the phone was pressed to his ear, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Mornin' darlin'. Ya sleep well?" Rick sounded tired, even worse than that night they had been in the park. It made Daryl want to scowl, find the cop and tuck him into bed, make sure he got some rest..

"Yea'. Slept fine." He grumbled, slowly sitting up as he glanced at the clock. It was ten to six. Rick had called early. "Ya sound like shit."

"Was a rough night." Rick chuckled, then paused. "Glad I get ta talk to ya though. Hope ya don' mind I woke ya early."

"Don' mind. Glad ya called." Daryl huffed, running a hand through his hair, cringing at the slightly oily feeling. He'd have to shower before work. "Somethin' happen?"

"Jus' the usual. People gettin' drunk n' violent. Ya know how it can be." Daryl did know. He had witnessed enough situations that Merle had gotten wasted, or worse, and thrown down by a handful of cops. Hell, one or two times, they had to take him down, too.

"Yea, I do." God, he wanted so badly to see Rick, it was almost painful. Just hearing the mans _voice_ did things to him. And now that he was worried, the urge was even stronger. "Get home a'right?"

"Ya worried 'bout me?" Ricks tone was teasing, light, but something was.. wrong. Daryl couldn't put his finger on what exactly made him feel that things weren't as they should be, he just _felt_ it.

"Yea. I am." He said, sounding more aggressive than he felt. "Don' seem like yerself."

"You can tell that over the phone, huh?" There was silence, and then a deep sigh. "Had ta shoot a kid last night. He was high out of his mind, and he had a gun.. Was pointin' it at my partner, shaking and twitchin'. Could'a pulled the trigger by accident, ya know? So I shot 'im. An' he died."

"Didn' have a choice, man." Daryl replied, narrowing his eyes at nothing. "He would'a hurt a lot of people. Could'a killed someone."

"I know." Another sigh, and Daryls skin was crawling with just how uneasy he felt. "I know I did the right thang, 's jus'. He was still a kid. Sixteen. I keep seein' his face. His eyes jus' staring at me. He was scared, Daryl. Don' think he even fully understood what was goin' on. An' I jus' know the second I close my eyes, I'm gonna see those eyes."

Daryl grunted, because what was he supposed to say to that? What could he do to make Rick feel better, to _help_? Words wouldn't fix anything, wouldn't turn back time and make it all okay again. So what could he do? There was one thing he could think of, that might work.

"They gave ya the night off, no? I mean, with what happened."

"Yeah. Why ya askin'?"

"Text me yer address. I'll come by after work." He didn't phrase it as a question, because no matter what Rick said, this was _happening_.

"Ya really think that's a good idea?" Daryl had never heard Rick sound insecure. It didn't suit the cop at all. In fact, Daryl _hated_ hearing Rick that way. He'd do _anything_ to make it go away.

"'m sure. Don' have ta do nothin'.. like that." God, this was humiliating, how he couldn't even _say_ it out loud. He sounded like a school boy. "Can pick up dinner. Watch a movie, or somethin'."

"..Ya think ya could pick up some booze? Kinda jus'.. Wanna get wasted an' fall asleep on the couch. Not deal with those thangs right now."

Drinking and ignoring issues. Daryl could do that for fucking sure.

"Yea'. Jus' text me what ya wan' me ta bring with yer adress, an' I'll be there at 'round seven. Text ya if I'm late." He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. "..Might have ta go home an' shower first, so make it eight."

"Could jus' shower here." Rick suggested, voice once again teasing. And god, Daryl wanted to just give in and say 'yes', even if Rick had only been joking. There were so many different things a situation like that could lead to, and _fuck_ , he _wanted_ \- But that wasn't what tonight was about.

"Nah, 'm good showerin' at my place. Wouldn' wanna tempt ya too much, that ain't fair." And Ricks laughter was worth the heat currently coloring his cheeks deep red.

"Thanks, Daryl. Havin' ya here tonight means.." An audible swallow, and then Rick continued. "Jus' thanks. I'll see ya tonight."

The line went dead, and Daryl decided to fuck showering now, and do it when he came home. Rick was the only one he wanted to look good for anyway. Everyone else didn't matter.

He was being ridiculous. He knew he was. _This_. Was ridiculous.

He had taken off an hour earlier today, after talking Joe into picking up another shift on his day off next week. A whole day of work traded for a single hour. Joe knew Daryl was the best mechanic he had, the one that worked the hardest, and an extra day of him around meant being able to take more customers, and that meant more money. The old man hadn't even thought about it, simply agreed.

And so, Daryl found himself at a clothing store on the way home, determined to find someone decent he could wear. He didn't have much time, wanted to get to Rick as quickly as possible, he just.. Needed to not look like a broke piece of shit.

He had picked up different shirts and pants, the type that would be durable enough for him to wear to work, but didn't look like they'd been worn for too many years. He didn't spare the ripped jeans even a second. Why people paid to wear fucked up clothes still baffled him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to take part in that.

Now, as he stood in the changing room, he wished he had at least a little sense of fashion. He had no idea if what he had chosen looked decent. The pants he had on seemed fine, black and almost too tight around certain areas, but not quite. A white t-shirt adorned his upper body, and Daryl prayed that when he took it off, it would be void of any oil stains, or he'd have to buy it no matter what.

He was about to pull everything off again and find something else, when the door to his stall opened, making the archer jump back, out of habit alone.

"Oh!" The female seemed to be equally startled, green eyes wide as she took in the sight before her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Jus' close the damn door." Daryl snapped, eyes narrowed. There was no reason to be such a dick, after all he was the one that had forgotten to lock the damn door, but he couldn't help the kneejerk reaction he'd had for most of his life.

"Sorry." The woman said again, quickly doing as she'd been told, and Daryl was once more alone, with only his reflection to stare at.

This was fucking hopeless, he'd never be able to find something that looked good-

"You know, if I were you, I'd wear a T-shirt with color." Daryl frowned, glaring at the door as if it had been the one to talk to him. Why did she even care what he was wearing,it was none of her business. But then.. Girls knew lots about clothes, didn't they?

Slowly slipping out of the stall, he looked her up and down, brows furrowed.

"What color?" He finally asked, because fuck, if he could get help with this problem, he'd be a fool to refuse it.

"Depends on where you're going, really." She replied, offering him a smile despite his lack of manners. "I'm Maggie, by the way. Maggie Greene. So, whats the plan for the outfit? Going on a date?"

"..Daryl Dixon." He replied, still not entirely sure what he had gotten himself into. "Wouldn' call it a date."

"But you want to impress someone, yes?" She continued, tilting her head ever so slightly.

"..Yeah." He admitted, gaze dropping to the floor as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Well, you have gorgeous blue eyes." Maggie said, and for a second, Daryl was confused. Was she hitting on him now? "Should wear something that highlights them. Maybe navy blue? And definitely _not_ a T-shirt."

"Why not a T-shirt?" He asked, still avoiding the females gaze.

"Because you don't impress someone in a _T-shirt_. Trust me. I know exactly what you need, just wait here."

And before Daryl could say another word, she was gone. Fucking great, now he had some chick playing Dress-Up-The-Redneck. Why had he even come here? He didn't have time to waste-

"Here you go." Something dark blue was shoved into his hands with a smile, and then he was being ushered back into the stall. "Let me see when you've got it on."

And why was he listening to her again?

Still, he pulled off the T-shirt and cast it to the floor, pulling the new item over his head. It had long sleeves, which made it difficult to put on, and now that he thought about it, he should have just opened the buttons- Oh.

He glanced into the mirror once the shirt was settled, swallowing hard because.. He had never seen himself in something quite this fancy before. Although, everything that wasn't worn and ripped seemed fancy to him. He had to admit it looked.. good.

"Come on Daryl, let me see!" Maggie demanded, and he couldn't help but grunt at her. Damn pushy female. But he did as he was told, came out, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

"Better?"

"Oh, _much_ better. You look hot." She was grinning at him now, obviously pleased with her choice. "That's exactly what you should wear."

"Yeah?" He couldn't help it. He was insecure as fuck. The fabric felt stiff against his skin, as if it wasn't meant to wrap around someone like him, like it was meant for someone else.

"Definitely." Maggie nodded. "Go back in, change, and pay for them. Trust me, you look _amazing_."

"..Thanks." He shook his head, biting his lower lip. "Ya help people in every store ya shop in?"

"No, just in my store." Maggie replied lightly, shooting him another smile. "Now come on, lets get to it. I'm sure you have somewhere to be."

Daryl had picked up two bottles of scotch, the expensive kind, too. His funds where running low, and it was only the middle of the month, but fuck it. He'd have to hunt for food the next two weeks, and thank god he was good at hunting. Rick had asked for Chinese food, so Daryl had picked that up, too. So here he stood , at the front door of Rick house with two orders of fried chicken with rice, and sweet and sour sauce in one had, a bag with the booze in the other, squeaky clean and wearing the new clothes he had gotten that day.

It felt strange, to show up at someones house like this, just to hang out for the evening. It wasn't something Daryl had done before. His life usually contained work, hunting, and driving around Merle. It was so normal it almost seemed surreal.

The door opened before he was ready for it, Rick standing before him in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Daryl was glad he had taken Maggie's advice, because how strange would it have been if he had turned up wearing the same shit Rick was?

"Hey, Daryl. Come on in." The cop stepped aside, motioning for Daryl to enter. So, Daryl walked into the hallway that seemingly lead from the front door to the living room, toeing off his shoes before wandering further.

"Thanks." Rick had taken the bags from him, leading the way to the living room with an adjoining kitchen. The food was placed onto a kitchen island, the booze taken out of the bag.

"How much do I owe you?" Rick asked, turning his back on the archer to retrieve plates for their meal.

"Nothin', man. 's on me." Rick shouldn't have to pay. Not after what he'd been through. After the kindness he had shown Daryl.

"I'm payin' half of this, Daryl. And I ain't takin' no for an answer." Blue eyes threw him a warning glance, and he couldn't help himself. Daryl lowered his gaze, ducked his head, and gave a small grunt. God, why did that tone make his legs go weak?

"Don' know how much exactly. Left the recites in the car."

"We'll get 'em later then. For now, lets eat."

By the time midnight rolled around, Daryl was well and truly drunk. They had spent the time after dinner watching Star Wars, handing the booze back and forth as they sat on the couch, until the first bottle was empty, only to open the second minutes after. Rick seemed just as wasted, his words slurring together as he went on about the difference between a Storm trooper and an Imperial officer. Daryl had never really watched much of anything, but watching the cop get so excited about them was an absolute pleasure.

"God, yer a nerd, ya know that?" The archer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

"That a problem?" Rick replied, quirking a brow at the redneck, eyes coming alight for a split moment with something that looked like a challenge.

"Nah. 's fuckin' adorable." He couldn't help the grin curling his lips, because god, he'd never met anyone so.. he couldn't come up with a word that didn't seem cheesy. Perfect. Rick was perfect.

"No one ever called me that 'fore." Rick chuckled, shaking his head, making a grab for the booze Daryl held in his hand. "Gimme that."

"Don' ya think yer wasted 'nough?" Daryl teased, moving the bottle just out of the deputy's reach.

"Yer jus' as drunk." Rick countered, moving closer to the archer, attempting to take the bottle again. "C'mon, Daryl."

"Nah, man, I think ya need ta slow down." He was playing, of course he was, because he'd never be able to refuse Rick anything. And suddenly he realized just how _close_ Rick was, their shoulders and legs brushing against each other with every movement. And finally, Daryl could pick up the mans scent, could inhale the earthy, manly scent mixed with soap and alcohol. It made him want to shove Rick onto his back, press his face against the cops neck..

"Maybe I can convince ya I ain't had enough, then." The words were almost a purr, chasing a tremble through the archers body. And before he knew what was happening, Rick was on his knees before him, spreading his legs by shoving at his knees until he could fit between them.

Daryl was suddenly paralyzed, eyes wide as he gawked at Rick, hands suddenly trembling. God, this wasn't happening, couldn't be, _shouldn't_ be. Rick was drunk off his ass, didn't know what he was doing, didn't-

" _Oh fuck_ -" The time he had spent thinking about what was about to happen, Rick had used to lean forward and mouth at the archers groin, moaning low in his throat as he found Daryl hard and waiting. The booze was dropped to the floor and immediately forgotten as Rick fucking _nuzzled_ his cock, groaning low in his throat.

"Fuck, Daryl. Been thinkin' 'bout doin' this since I saw ya in the bar. Wonderin' how ya taste, what ya sound like when ya come.." And then the cop was fucking licking over the denim covering the archers cock, making it impossible to stop the desperate bucking of slim hips. "Been thinkin' 'bout it too Daryl?"

He shouldn't let this happen, he shouldn't, he shouldn't-

"G'wan Daryl. Tell me." Rick prompted, blue eyes flicking up to capture equally blue orbs. "Ya think 'bout me doin' this?"

"Yeah. Think 'bout it all the time, Rick." He couldn't pretend he didn't, couldn't _not_ answer him, because fuck, this was.. "Think 'bout ya when I jerk off, when I'm workin', even fuckin' _dream_ of ya."

"Shit, Daryl. So good fer me. Fuckin' _perfect_." Ricks voice, low and rough, betraying his arousal so clearly, was Daryls undoing. He just _couldn't_ stop, couldn't push Rick away like he should. He was weak, utterly defenseless where Rick was concerned. "Gonna make ya feel real good, darlin', make ya come harder than ever before. Ya want that, sweetheart?"

" _Yes_ " Daryl groaned, rocking his hips upward, his cock so hard now it was almost painful. "Wan' it, Rick, please, I'll be good, I promise, just _please_!"

"That's it Daryl. Good boy, so good fer me, gonna give ya what ya want now." And then Ricks lips were back on his groin, traveling upwards until he reached the zipper, pulling it down with his teeth, making Daryl shiver. He hastily undid the button on his pants himself, so eager (and drunk) it took several tries to get it open, all the while being distracted by the way Rick teased him through the fabric.

"Ya keep doin' that an' 'm gonna be done 'fore ya start." Daryl gruffed, biting into the flesh of his lower lip as he wiggled out of his pants. He made a move for his shirt as well, too fucking hot, but he never got past the second button.

"Leave it." Rick snapped, momentarily distracted from his task, eyes narrowed. "Looks so good on ya, wanted ta fuck ya into the damn _ground_ second ya came in."

Daryl swallowed, unable to find words, simply nodding. Fuck, if this wasn't the best damn night of his life. Rick wanted him. Rick _wanted_ Daryl. And then his pants and briefs were being pulled down and off his legs, discarded onto the floor. He was given only a brief moment to catch up, to feel cold air hit his cock, and then Rick was back, rubbing his cheek against the length like a cat, his stubbled skin causing a mind blowing sensation against sensitive skin.

"Gorgeous Daryl. Better than I imagined." Rick groaned, turning his head to place a kiss onto the crown, making the archer buck and moan. "Yea, thats it, lemme hear ya Daryl, keep makin' those pretty sounds. Bein' so good fer me.."

"God Rick, jus' _please_ -" Daryl begged, wanting so badly to thrust into that pretty mouth, squirming as Rick licked from base to tip, teasing around the head. Fuck, this was the best head he'd ever been given, and Rick hadn't even really _started_. "Please, do whatever ya wan', I will, need yer mouth on me, please, please, _please_ -"

"Shh. Calm down sweetheart." Rick soothed, nuzzling the archers length, running his nose along it. "Don' move. Jus' feel. Can ya do that fer me?"

"Yes, I can, I ca-" He didn't get any further. Heat was enveloping him, making his cry out in surprise and arousal as perfect lips wrapped around his tip and slid lower, until Rick had taken him completely, only to pull back, giving Daryl a smug grin.

"Yeah, ya like that, don' ya sweetheart?" He prompted, not waiting for a reply before dipping his head back down, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm, snaking his tongue over sensitive flesh on every upward motion.

"Fuck yes, love it, feels so _good_." The words sounded almost choked, but he couldn't really be blamed for that. Rick was a fucking _god_ , the way he seemed to know exactly what Daryl liked, where to touch him , where to linger. Keeping his hips still seemed like the hardest thing the redneck had to do in his entire life, knuckles white as his fingers curled into the fabric of the couch. He wasn't going to last, there was no fucking way, he wasn't- And then Rick was pulling off, making Daryl whine in protest. "No, why ya stoppin', Rick _please_ , I need-"

"I know sweetheart. I know." Rick soothed, once more looking up at him. "Need ya ta be good an' ask me. Ask me fer permission, and I'll let ya come. Let ya fuck my mouth an' spill over my tongue. Jus' gotta be good fer me, ask me nicely. G'wan."

"Please, please, can I come?" Daryl whimpered, mortified at the sounds coming from him, sounds he never thought he'd be capable of. But then, Rick brought out all kinds of new things in him. "Please, I need ta, please-"

"Fuck Daryl, that's it, jus' like that." Rick groaned, finally seeming a bit out of breath as well, and then he was back on Daryl, swallowing him down in one steady motion, until Daryl could feel his tip hit something hard and solid, realizing somewhere in his brain that he must be rubbing against the back of Ricks throat, and god, that was fucking _hot_.

"Please, Rick, don' stop, don' ever stop, so good, so _close_ , oh fuck-" The tight ball of pleasure was coiled tight low in his stomach, so close to coming undone, teethering on the very edge-

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck- Oh god, Rick, _Rick_ -" The cops hum pushed him over the edge, the vibrations along his length too much to bare. And Rick kept his promise, pulled back and let Daryl come all over his tongue, his moan muffled against Daryls heated flesh, forcing another spurt of seed out of him.

It took minutes until Daryl could calm his breathing, could open his eyes and glance down at the cop still seated between his leg, catching the last few seconds of Rick jerking off furiously before spilling onto the carpet before him. Daryl couldn't help the small groan escaping him at the sight, wishing he had looked at the deputy's face when he came. But damn, Ricks cock was just as perfect as the mans face.

He felt suddenly exhausted, almost as if he was floating, and then Rick was standing up, taking the archers hand into his own, pulling him to his feet, leading him somewhere. Daryl didn't know or care where they were going, mind still hazy with the afterglow of a earth shattering orgasm.

All he knew was that he laid down on something soft, probably a real bed, and then Rick was beside him, turning Daryl to lay on his side, wrapping a strong arm around the archers chest, pulling him against the cops chest. It felt safe, and warm, and Daryl couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this.

He'd never give this up, not if he didn't have to. Not if Rick let him stay.

And with that thought, Daryl fell asleep in Ricks arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl woke to sunlight.

He blinked, groaning low in his throat at the pounding in his head. His mind was fuzzy, memories coming back to the archer in fractured pieces. He had been drinking. With Rick. He vaguely recalled them laughing about his imitation of what Chewbaca would probably sound like during sex. And then.. _Oh_. Rick had sucked him down like a pro, and then..

Daryl was sitting upright before he even realized he had moved. His head protested the sudden movement viciously, making the rednecks stomach twist, chasing a wave of nausea through him. The second he could see straight, he turned his gaze to the empty space beside him. Rick wasn't there anymore. He trailed roughened fingertips over the sheets. They were cool. No one had laid here for hours.

Rick had probably woken, thought about what had happened, and in his sober state decided it had all been a big mistake. Realized he could do worlds better than a redneck mechanic with a fucked up face. He had been stupid to believe this would end up any other way. The cop would be downstairs, waiting for Daryl to get up and dressed, and politely ask him to leave. He'd say he was sorry for leading him on, and that they could still be friends. And Daryl would tell him to go fuck himself, and never go back to that god damn bar, because how could he be anything less that whatever they were now? He'd go home, thank whatever god was listening that the garage was closed on Sundays, and set on forgetting he had ever met Rick.

Humiliated, Daryl paid his head no attention as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, thankful that Rick had made him keep on the shirt. At least he wouldn't be bare when he went to retrieve his clothes in the living room. If he had opened himself to Rick like that, if Rick had _seen_.. It would have made the rejection so much more painful.

He didn't bother keeping his steps light, practically stomping out of the cops bedroom and down the stairs he couldn't remember climbing, lips pressed together so tightly it hurt. He just needed to get on his pants, grab his briefs, socks and shoes, and get to his car. He could do this.

He had just managed to grab for his pants when-

"Daryl? What'cha doin'?" He didn't want to reply, he really didn't. And so, he gave a grunt, starting to pull on his pants, wavering slightly in his haste. Rick moved closer, serving only to make Daryl's hands tremble harder. "Daryl?"

"Look, 'm jus' gonna go, a'right?" Daryl snapped, desperately trying to locate his briefs that had been discarded to the floor the night before.

"Oh." Daryl swallowed around the lump in his throat. He had to get out, had to _leave_ , because if he didn't, he'd break down right here. "If. If that's what ya wan', I won' stop ya."

Daryl stilled. If that was what _he_ wanted? But.. was that not what Rick wanted after all? Fuck, had he taken it all wrong?

"Thought.. ya wanted me ta." He breathed, back still turned on the cop. "Didn' stay in bed."

"That wasn' because I wanted ya ta leave, Daryl." Rick replied, his voice soothing, and then he was carefully wrapping an arm around the archers chest. Daryl stiffened, tense and at a loss for what to do or say. "Jus' had ta think, Daryl. Last night.. that wasn' what I had planned, 's all."

"Yer regrettin' it." Daryl shook his head, now struggling to escape the deputy's grip, because if this was all just for his benefit, he wanted none of it.

"No. I'm not. Don't think I could _ever_ regret what happened between us." Ricks tone was sharp, firm, and caused a tremor along the archers spine. He stilled, allowing Rick to hold him against his chest, surrendering. And then, Rick continued a bit softer. "Told ya ifs been a while since I.. well, since I've been with anyone. And last night was.. _you_ were perfect. I jus' needed some time ta process it all."

Now, Daryl felt like a jerk. All Rick had wanted was to have a chance to think, a chance he had given Daryl again and again. Just think and calm down. And Daryl.. Daryl had behaved like a dick.

"'m sorry." He grunted, lowering his head. "..Feels like 'm sayin' that a lot lately."

"Have nothin' ta apologize for, Daryl. Should've known how ya'd feel wakin' up alone. 'm sorry" Rick leaned forward, making the archer shiver as he ran the tip of his nose along his ear, gently nuzzling Daryl's hair.

"..'s not yer fault. Got nothin' ta apologize fer, neither." Daryl huffed, slowly reaching up to place his hand onto Ricks arm currently wrapped around him. "I jus'.. Guess I always think the worst. Can' really.. understand why ya wan' me, ya know?"

"There are so many reasons why, Daryl." Rick hummed quietly, pressing a soft kiss to Daryls neck. "Yer sweet. An' funny." Each statement was punctuated by a small kiss to the archers neck, making him shiver. Daryl lowered his head more and more, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Don' have ta say th-"

"I _know_ I don' have ta Daryl. I _wan'_ ta." A nip at his earlobe had the archer gasping quietly, biting down on his bottom lip to try and silence himself. "Yer smart, and yer loyal as fuck. Stickin' by yer brother like that, no matter what. So fucking _strong_ , sweetheart. Never met anyone as strong as you, never. An' don' even get me started on how incredibly gorgeous and hot ya are. Take me fuckin' _days._ "

"Rick.." He didn't know why he said the others name, didn't know if he was asking him to stop or to keep going, if he wanted to run, or to turn around and shove his face against the deputy's neck.

"Ever since I met ya, my life has been better, Daryl. Ya make me.. whole." God, how could Rick just _say_ shit like that, how could he be so open? He wanted so badly to tell Rick he felt the same way, but the fear of rejection still lingered in his bones, and he couldn't get himself to open his mouth and _talk_. "An' I know that's a lot, an' if ya need some time ta yerself, I get it. Jus' don' ever think I don' want ta be with ya, Daryl. Because _I do_."

"I-" Daryl attempted, confused and hung over, but he couldn't say the words he really wanted to. "Don' wanna leave."

"Ya don' have ta. Come on." Ricks hand was wrapped around Daryls before the archer could complain about the arm being taken off his chest. They weren't close enough, Daryl wanted to be plastered to Ricks body, but he let himself be lead to the kitchen.

"Sit down at the kitchen island, darlin'. Lets get ya some coffee and somethin' ta eat." Daryl did as he was told, watching Rick as he poured coffee into a cup and placed it in front of the hunter. "Ya hungry fer anythin'?"

"Nah. Whatever ya have is fine." The sheriff was suddenly beside him again, forcing Daryl to look up by gently applying pressure beneath Daryls chin with his fingers, tipping his head upwards.

"Ya can ask fer things, darlin' . I wan' ya ta." Rick was smiling at him, encouraging the redneck. "So, there anythin' ya want fer breakfast?"

"Dunno." Daryl grunted, trying to avoid those blue eyes piercing his own. But he knew Rick wasn't going to back down, and so, eventually, the archer grumbled. "..Pancakes?"

"Pancakes it is." Rick was grinning, pleased with himself no doubt. Daryl huffed, ducking his head as the deputy set to work, refusing any attempt of the archers to help. Daryl was expected to sit, drink his coffee, and wait. It was a relief, somehow, that even when he was nervous, Rick knew how to help. Simple orders seemed to help. Made things so much easier.

"Ya wan' sirup too?" The cop asked, and Daryl nodded quickly. "Come on darlin', know ya can do better than that."

"Yes, I want sirup. Please." The words , once again, came out all on their own. He didn't have to think about them even a little. Rick just smiled at him, placing a plate with six pancakes staked on top of each other before the archer.

"Good boy." Daryl could feel a shiver run along his spine. God, he fucking _loved_ when Rick called him that. Maybe this was what he had been craving all his life. A firm leader that acknowledged that he wasn't just an extra mouth to feed, or a weak link. Could see that Daryl was _strong_ , that he could help, could earn his spot beside this gorgeous man.

They ate in silence, elbows and knees brushing ever so often. It was heaven, to just sit next to Rick, not feeling the need to take charge of the situation. The fact that silence between them was never uncomfortable was another plus. He'd never been one to talk much anyway.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had pancakes for breakfast, and no one had ever cooked for him either. Even as a child, Daryl had been in charge of feeding himself. Its why he had started to hunt at a young age. Thanks to his old man and Merle's wasteful ways, they'd never really had much food in the house, and the redneck had been forced to find other ways to keep from starving.

"Plans fer today?" Rick asked somewhat casually, glancing at Daryl once they had both had their fill, placing the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. The archer couldn't help staring at the deputys ass as he bent down. If Rick noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Nah. Don' work on Sundays. Was jus' gonna go huntin' or somethin'." Daryl shrugged, finding it suddenly difficult to keep his eyes open. His stomach was full, he was warm and comfortable, aside of the persistent headache, and all he wanted to do was curl up in Ricks bed, have the older males chest pressed to his back, one arm slung around Daryls hips, keeping him close, keeping him _safe_..

"Good. Means ya can stay 'til I gotta go ta work." Daryls presence seemed to please the officer, and even though Daryl still couldn't really begin to understand why, he was happy to do anything Rick wanted. Fuck, the man could probably beat him to a pulp, and Daryl would still come crawling back for more. It should have scared him. Would have, if he hadn't been so perfectly content, like a cat with a belly full of cream. "Yer lookin' pretty sleepy there, darlin'. Think its time fer a nap."

"Only if ya nap with me." There was no way he would let himself be separated from Rick, not now, not when everything he never knew he wanted was right there. His words earned him a chuckle, a nuzzle to his stubbled cheek.

"'course, Daryl. Gonna sleep right next ta ya, I promise." Before the archer knew what was happening, he was being picked up bridal-style, strong arms wrapped under his knees and his shoulders, forcing a surprised gasp out of him. His instinct was to snap at the deputy, tell him he could damn well walk on his own, that he didn't need to be carried around like a fucking _girl_. But it felt _so good_ , to know that Rick wouldn't let him fall, to trust someone enough to hold him this way. A small sigh escaped thin lips as the archer allowed his head to fall against Ricks chest, eyes fluttering shut the second he picked up on the deputy's steady heartbeat.

"Not gonna leave again, right?" Daryl asked, his voice low as sleep threatened to overcome him before they had even made it to bed.

"No, sweetheart. I ain't gonna leave ya again. I promise." Ricks voice was like music to his ears, and he tried his hardest to stay awake, to focus on Ricks words more than the sound of his voice. It was a futile attempt with how at ease the archer was. All he could do was grunt in reply, and then he was gone, slipping into the land of dreams.

* * *

After their nap followed separate showers, which Daryl had protested at first. But Rick had stood by his decision, and Daryl had washed up in the spacious shower on his own. It was surreal, standing in a shower as big as his whole fucking bathroom, knowing he didn't have to worry about the water going cold in the middle of him cleaning himself. Even without Merle around, there really wasn't much time before the water turned lukewarm, and eventually freezing cold.

He hadn't asked why Rick was so insistent about the matter, fearing that he'd get a reply he couldn't handle. It was difficult, at the very least, to keep himself from thinking that Rick might have changed his mind after all, that he was just being kind. A part of the archer was yelling at him to get away, that something this good was too good to be true. The other half begged him to stay, that he could trust Rick, that everything the deputy had said was true. That he really was what Rick wanted.

Years of running left Daryls skin itching as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel Rick had placed on the sink for him, drying his skin with rushed movements. He wanted to get back to Rick. Wanted to feel those broad hands on his skin, feel Ricks eyes on his form. Daryl had never thought he'd get addicted to anything, but it seemed that he'd found something, actually _someone_ that had him hooked.

"Rick?" That name stilled rolled of his tongue in the most perfect of ways, and he'd never get tired of saying it. He hadn't noticed that his clothes had disappeared from the bathroom floor, leaving him with nothing but the towel to wrap around himself. How had he not realized Rick had been in the room?

"Bedroom." Rick called back, and Daryl had two choices. Either stay behind the shut door and ask for his clothes, or wrap the towel around his hips and join Rick. The latter would mean.. Daryl swallowed around the lump in his throat. Rick would see his scars. He'd ask questions. He'd want to know what had happened to Daryl. And fuck, was he really ready to share that with him?

The continued silence must have alarmed the deputy, for a soft knock against the wooden bathroom door startled Daryl from his thoughts, causing his muscles to tense, hands curling into fists.

"Ya a'right in there, darlin'?" Daryl bit down on his lip. Was he alright? He didn't know. Didn't know if he was ready to bare himself that way yet, either.

"Took my clothes." He replied, barely loud enough for Rick to hear, chest tightening.

"Jus' ta wash 'em Daryl." Rick answered. "Was jus' lookin' fer some clothes that might fit ya. In case ya didn' want ta, ya know, run around nude. Jus' need ya ta open the door wide enough ta slip 'em through the gap, yeah?"

"Yeah. Hold on." Thank god Rick hadn't expected anything. Daryl had met a few people that had been kind to him, and then expected the redneck to return the favor in a very different way. But Rick wasn't like that, he reminded himself. Rick was a good man. He pulled the door open, just enough to allow the cops hand and arm to slip inside, holding on to a pair of gray sweatpants, a black pair of briefs, and a white T-shirt. "Thanks."

"Yer welcome. Why don' ya get dressed and we'll see what we can do fer lunch." Daryl snorted as he closed the door. They had just eaten that morning, and now he was supposed to eat again? Regular meals weren't something Daryl was used to.

"Jus' ate, man." He huffed, slipping into the briefs and pants, quickly pulling the shirt over his head.

"Daryl, we slept seven hours." Rick snickered, grinning at Daryl once he had opened the door. "And yer too skinny anyway. Makes me want ta feed ya as much as I can get away with."

"Yer gonna make me get fat if ya do that." The hunter complained playfully, not quite able to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was strange. If anyone else had told him he was too skinny, Daryl would have felt insulted, would have gotten angry. But with Rick.. It wasn't like that. He wasn't looking down on him. He was, playfully, showing worry. Wanted Daryl to eat properly. No one else had ever given a fuck about that in his entire life. It left the archer feeling thrilled, and terrified at the same time.

"Doubt ya could get fat, darlin'." Rick was grinning, again, like a fucking cheshire cat. "Yer work is a lot of physical labor, an' so is huntin'. Jus' look at yer biceps. Look like ya work out."

"Bullshit." Daryl huffed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He still got uncomfortable when Rick complimented him. Never really saw that going away. "Jus' cause I hunt with a crossbow."

"Crossbow, huh? That's impressive." Rick took a step closer then, making Daryl want to inch back. He didn't, though, because having the officer this close was definitely worth the small discomfort of having another person in his personal space. "An' watch yer language, darlin'."

"Ain't nothin'." Daryl grunted, narrowing his eyes a bit at the scolding. "What, ya don' like me cursin'?"

"Would prefer if ya saved that fer other situations, 's all." Rick moved away, walking along the hallway to the stairs that would lead them to the kitchen and living room. Daryl was flustered, having to forcefully squash the erotic images his mind brought forth at Ricks words, but followed Rick anyway, barely leaving enough space between them that he wouldn't step on the mans heels. "Should teach me."

"What, ta curse?"

"Nah, ta shoot yer crossbow." Daryl wanted to snort, and tell Rick it took years to develop the muscles needed to pull back the bowstring, to learn how to read the wind, and land an accurate shot. That there was no way Rick would stick with him for that long. Instead, he gave a quiet hum.

"Why not. Gonna warn ya though, yer arms are gonna be sore as fuck the day after." Rick had lead them to the kitchen em _again_ /em, apparently determined to get more food into the archer.

"I can live with that. 'specially if ya hang around ta rub 'em fer me. Get all the tension out." Daryl was most definitely down with that. It meant they'd spend two days in a row together, maybe he'd get to spend the night again, and maybe then they'd do more than a one-sided blowjob. "Spaghetti a'right with ya? I think I got some of that instant tomato sauce somewhere.."

Rick was rummaging through one of the kitchen cupboards, giving Daryl the perfect view of his broad shoulders and back. He'd never get tired of staring at Rick. Never. And as he watched, his mind wandered back to the night before. How Ricks mouth had felt on his cock. How hot it was watching beautiful lips trailing over his length, over and over. How much being told to _ask_ for release had turned him on. His cock was quickly growing harder, twitching with interest.

"Daryl." The archers head snapped up, blue orbs catching him in their spell once again. But god, Rick _was_ beautiful. He wanted to know what he'd taste like, how it'd feel to have him in his mouth. Rick would hold him by his hair, would lead him, show him what felt good, all the while praising him with that raspy voice.. "Asked ya a question', darlin'. What's got ya so distracted, hm?"

"You." Daryl replied honestly, without hesitation.

"That so?" Rick was arching his eyebrow again, lips quirked, and the archer couldn't quite make out if it was an expression of amusement, or if Rick was pleased with him.

"Yea'. Been wonderin'.." Daryl broke off then, having to gather his thoughts, put the words into the right order. He wanted to sound appealing, seductive even, because he _needed_ to know what it was like. Actually, no. He _wanted_ to know all these things. What he _needed_ was to make Rick feel as good as he had made Daryl feel the night before. Wanted to prove to Rick he _could_ please him, could be everything the deputy wanted him to be. But with all this pressure, he felt his chest tightening, felt the lump in his throat grow until he thought he might gag on it. He was fucking things up again, and fuck, _why_ couldn't he just-

"Daryl, look at me. Hey." Rick was right before him, not touching, his tone commanding, leaving the archer no other option than to focus again, to focus on Rick. He hadn't even noticed lowering his gaze, how his chest was rising and falling with a shaky, unsteady rhythm. "Jus' breathe fer me, darlin'. Did it before, ya remember? Know ya can do it, know ya can be good fer me. In an out, sweetheart, jus' like me. Nice an' steady."

Minutes passed until Daryls breathing settled, until he felt himself relaxing again. God, how did Rick put up with this shit? No one ever had, and soon Rick would find someone else. Someone that was exactly what he wanted, that didn't have to be calmed like a child every other day, that was too much of a fuckin' coward to just say what he wanted, how much the deputy meant to him.

"Better?" Rick asked, gently brushing his fingertips over Daryls palm, almost as if he was asking permission. The archer gave a tiny nod, and then felt his hand being clasped in Ricks, giving a soft sigh of relief at the skin to skin contact. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, darlin'?"

And Daryl didn't want to tell him, because surely it would ruin the entire day, and it had been so pleasant until.. But he couldn't lie to Rick, either. It felt wrong, like it went against every fucking fiber of his body.

"Was thinkin' how long yer gonna put up with this shit, before ya go find someone that ain't a fuckin' pussy." And now the dam was broken, there was no going back as words poured out of him, feeling the weight on his chest grow lighter and lighter the more he said. "Yer fuckin' gorgeous, an' _good_ , and so many other things I don' even know the words fer. Bein' with you is like bein' _home_ , and I ain't ever felt that before. Yer better than me in _every fucking way_ , and ya deserve more than stupid redneck that can' do nothin' right but fix a fuckin' car and hunt, deserve someone that ain't 'fraid, that can give ya what ya wan', that can be everythin' ya ever hoped fer, and it _ain't me,_ Rick. _Can't_ be me. I'd just fuck up, man, I know it, an' you know it too-"

" _Enough_." It was more a growl than an actual word, and Daryl couldn't help himself, the instinct so deeply engrained in him, the piece of his brain that told him that kind of tone meant danger. He jumped back, pulling his hand from Ricks, eyes wide as he took in the mans expression. Rick looked _pissed off_ , and for the first time Daryl truly thought the cop might punch him in the face.

"Don'. Move." Rick forced out between gritted teeth, and despite the fear rising, Daryl stayed still. "First of all, ya don' get ta tell me what I do an' don't know. Ya don' get ta assume. Secondly, I ain't better than you Daryl. No one could be _better_ than you. Ya hear me? No one. An' who I want ain't up to ya, neither. Ta decide who's good enough fer me, an' who isn't. We clear?"

Daryl nodded, still rooted to the floor with fear, still feeling his skin crawl, all his instincts telling him that he had to get the fuck out, or he'd be covered in bruises, if not worse. That Rick, right now, was dangerous, and could do _real_ harm.

"Good." The softening of Ricks tone was unexpected, and Daryl still didn't quite trust whatever was going on between them. He had no idea what Rick would do next, and it was unnerving at the very least. But he stood still, because Rick had told him to, had promised Daryl he wouldn't hurt him. And Rick wasn't a liar. "Want ya ta listen ta me now, a'right? Want ya ta _really listen_ , an' not interrupt. Think ya can do that?"

Daryl gave a timid nod. He could do that.

"Yer everythin' I ever wanted, Daryl. Yer strong, an' yer loyal, an' yer _good_. Yer strong in ways I've never been. Ya gotta trust me when I tell ya that, 'cause its true." Daryl wanted to protest, because he was none of the things Rick was calling him. But he had been told to shut up and listen, and fuck, he wasn't gonna screw up again. "Told ya before I don' wan' ya thinkin' like that, cause _I_ don' think that way 'bout ya. I think yer beautiful, an' sweet, and _perfect fer_ _me._ An' I don' care that we're takin' things slow, I don' mind calmin' ya when ya get scared. I don' know what happened ta make you this afraid, and if ya don' want ta tell me, I don' need ta know. What happened back then don' change nothin' fer me. I'm here with ya, Daryl, 'cause I want ta be. Ya know I do. An' I ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't gonna leave ya jus' because things get a little rough. I _want_ ya, Daryl. There isn' a single piece of me that want's ta go find someone else. All I wan' is you."

By the time Rick had finished, Daryl was trembling like a leaf. That Rick thought all those things about him.. It was overwhelming. It was bliss. It was frightening. It was like balm for his soul. He was tearing up, quickly lowering his head to hide them, but he couldn't seem to hide _shit_ from Rick.

"'s okay, Daryl." Rick soothed, moving closer, until Daryl could feel the others body heat on his skin. "'m gonna touch ya now, a'right? Need ya ta tell me when its too much. Can ya do that, darlin'?"

"Yes." Daryl forced himself to reply, to try and keep his voice from breaking, only to have it crack anyway. But Rick didn't seem to care.

"Good, Daryl. Doin' so good." Rick took hold of the hunters hand once more, gently tugging him closer until their chests met, until Daryl could shove his face against the warm skin of the mans neck. Then Rick wrapped an arm around the archers back, holding him close as, much to Daryls mortification, the tears started to fall, and he was soon reduced to a sobbing mess. Rick just held him through it, through the crying, and shuddering breaths, through the garbled 'I'm sorry's that escaped Daryls lip ever so often. Rick held him like he was the most precious thing in the world, and once again, Daryl was awed by the others seemingly endless patience.

"C'mon." Once the worst was over, the cop lead them to the living room, maneuvering Daryl onto his lap with a smooth motion. "'s okay now, yer okay now darlin'. 's okay."

"Ain't nothin' okay 'bout this." Daryl argued weakly. "Ain't nothin' okay 'bout ya havin' ta treat me like a kid."

"Ain't treatin' ya like a kid, Daryl." Rick soothed, one hand on the archers lower back, the other running through his hair in steady, gentle movements. "Treatin' ya like someone that's afraid. An' 's okay ta be. I am, too. Ya know I am. Told ya before."

"..Jus' wanna make ya happy." Daryl swallowed heavily, leaning forward to place his forehead against Ricks. "Can' even do that."

"Ya do, Daryl. Make me so happy." Rick breathed. "Let me hold ya. Let me touch ya. That makes me happy. Yer here, with me. Yer tryin', fer me. And all of that makes me _ecstatic_ . Because I don' think you've ever let anyone else so close. An' I'm gonna do everythin' I can ta be worth that trust, Daryl. Ta deserve it."

"Already deserve it." Daryl gruffed quietly, slowly starting to calm, melting into the deputys form. "Do anythin' fer ya."

"An' I'd do anythin' fer ya, too. Pretty perfect, don' ya think?" And even Daryl had to admit, somehow, that did seem pretty perfect.

"Wanna try something, Daryl. Think it'd do ya good." Daryl leaned backwards, narrowing his eyes at the cop.

"An' whats that?"

"Remember how I told ya 'bout Dominants and Submissives?" Daryl nodded. He hadn't forgotten a single conversation between them. He'd remember them until the day he died. "Wan' ya try that with ya, darlin'. Don' worry, not gonna do anythin' but the very basics, a'right? An' you can stop whenever ya wan' ta. One word, an' it all stops."

"..An' what are the basics?" Daryl asked, not entirely convinced this was a good idea. But then, Rick had never done anything that had made him uncomfortable..

"Yer gonna do exactly what I tell ya. Yer not gonna move unless I let ya. Yer not gonna speak unless I ask ya a question." Rick replied evenly, his hands moving to the hunters hips, squeezing them gently. "Not gonna make ya do nothin' ya don' wan'. An' before ya ask, this ain't gonna be sexual, neither. That's not what its 'bout. Not now. Jus' wan' ta take care of ya. That sound a'right?"

Daryl paused. Did that sound alright? After a moment of pondering, the archer nodded. That actually sounded pretty damn good.

"Good. Yer really somethin', Daryl." Rick was smiling again, _finally_ , and that alone was worth the risk of being uncomfortable to Daryl. "But 'fore be start, I need ya ta think of a word that will let me know ya want ta stop. Can be whatever ya wan' it ta be."

"Me tellin' ya I wan' ta stop ain't enough?" Rick chuckled at that, shaking his head softly. Daryl loved when Rick chuckled. He loved the sound of it, the way Ricks eyes lit up, the way the skin around his eyes crinkled. Loved all of it.

"Jus' humor me, darlin'. Jus' think of a word, somethin' ya think is easy enough ta think of, no matter whats goin' on." And so Daryl humored Rick. It took him a few moments to settle on something, but finally he had made his choice.

"Crossbow." He muttered, almost shyly, not knowing what purpose this whole word thing served.

"Good boy, Daryl." Rick praised tenderly, pressing a kiss to the archers neck, full lips brushing against his skin, making it tingle ever so slightly. "So when ya need me ta stop, what do ya say?"

"Crossbow." Daryl repeated, feeling a bit foolish. But again, it was something he'd happily endure, if only Rick continued touching him so gently. Rick would take care of him.

"Perfect. Bein' so good fer me." Rick praised again, rewarding the archer with a soft nip to his jaw line. He was then gently ushered off the cops lap and onto the couch, where he remained as Rick stood, grabbing a pillow from the couch, placing it on the floor. "G'wan, darlin'. Wan' ya ta kneel on the pillow 'til I come back. Won' be gone long, I promise."

And at first, Daryl wanted to balk at that instruction. He wasn't a fucking _dog_ , why the fuck should he sit on the floor like one? It was demeaning, and Daryl was tempted to use his word and just stop it all. His gaze flicked from the pillow to Ricks eyes, then back to the pillow. What was Rick up to? It was nerve wrecking, to not know. But Rick deserved this. Deserved for Daryl to at least _try_. And so, he lowered himself onto the pillow, kneeling as he had been told to, forced to tilt his head back to look at the other.

"Beautiful." Rick breathed, reaching out to place his palm against the archers cheek, rubbing his thumb along the archers neck in gentle swipes. "So perfect fer me. Gonna get some food from the kitchen now. Gonna be right back, an' we're gonna have lunch."

Daryl opened his mouth to reply, only to be silenced as Rick placed his pointer to his lips. And that's when he remembered the rules. He wasn't supposed to answer, unless he was asked a question. And so, he simply nodded. Rick, clearly pleased, gave Daryl another heart stopping smile, and then retreated to the kitchen.

Daryl felt conflicted. On one side, kneeling on the floor like a dog was humiliating as fuck. And on the other, it was.. well, it was _nice_. Letting go, not having to worry about anything, handing over this amount of control.. Daryl had never thought he'd enjoy that, and yet, here he was, sitting on Ricks pillow on the ground, and feeling something that came close to freedom. Which was odd, considering the situation.

Before he could dwell on things too much, Rick returned, holding a plate in hand. From his perspective, Daryl couldn't see what the deputy had selected for their lunch, but whatever it was hadn't taken long to prepare.

"Did good, darlin'." Rick hummed his approval as he sat on the couch, right beside where Daryl was kneeling, so close that all the archer had to do was lean forward to press his forehead against the others knee. He didn't, though. Rick hadn't allowed him to move. "Ya like honey, Daryl?"

"Yea. Like it." Daryl responded after a second, and a warning glance from Rick. Had been entirely too distracted by how much he wanted to rub his cheek over the male's thigh to remember that, but quick to make up for his mistake.

"That's very good ta hear." Daryl watched as Rick moved, picking up something from the plate that Daryl quickly identified as a piece of toast, that had been cut into small squares. The rednecks brows furrowed, but before he could forget his rules again, Rick was holding one of those squares to his mouth. "Be good now, darlin'. Don' over-think this."

Daryl parted his lips, carefully taking hold of the toast with his lips, and then teeth, chewing twice and swallowing. It tasted good, the honey just sweet enough to make him want more.

"That's my good boy." Rick placed a hand on Daryls head, threading his fingers through brown hair, scraping his nails over his scalp with just enough pressure to make the sensation pleasurable. And _fuckyes_ he'd been _waiting_ to hear that. He was _Ricks_ good boy. Only Ricks. "Want more?"

"Yes, please." This time, the reply came immediately, and Daryl was rewarded with a hushed 'Good, so good Daryl.' and another piece of food. It went on like that, with Rick offering him more, followed by a polite 'Yes, please', and then praise from the deputy. By the time the entire plate was cleared, Daryl felt comfortable with his new position, was at ease with how things were going. He had been afraid for no reason at all.

"There ya go, Daryl. Did so well, darlin'. Bein' everythin' I wanted." Daryl couldn't help the way his chest puffed out with pride, couldn't stop the smile curling his lips. He'd been _good_ for Rick, and somehow that was all that mattered. There was nothing else in the world to worry about, nothing to pull him down. Just Rick, and his broad hands on Daryls skin, touching him with such care, as if the archer was a porcelain doll.

"Lay yer head in my lap, sweetheart." Daryl complied once more without thinking, scooting forward, dragging the pillow along with his knees until he could rest his cheeks against Ricks strong thighs. "That's it, jus' like that. God Daryl. Yer perfect."

Daryl didn't think to protest the statement as he usually would have. Instead, he accepted it, let it settle in his mind, giving a soft hum at the warmth that spread through him from head to toe. Rick though he was perfect, and that's all he cared about, all he _could_ care about. Because this, this was heaven. Simply resting his head on Ricks lap was bliss, and when the officer started to gently knead his neck, Daryl couldn't stop the groan that escaped him.

"Yeah, ya just relax, darlin'. Jus' lemme take care of ya." Rick whispered, his tone enough indication that the cop was enjoying this just as much as Daryl was. That this, somehow, was for them both.

The TV was turned on, but he couldn't focus on whatever show Rick had chosen. It was all a blur before the rednecks eyes, much too enticed by the way the cop was now running a hand over his back, as far as the man could reach without bending over lower. They remained that way for what seemed like hours, but might just have been minutes, and once more Daryl felt sleep tugging at him. He had never been this tired before, had never felt the need to sleep as much as he did now. At best, he got a few fitful hours of rest before work, and that was it. To sleep during the day had never been an option. Now, all he craved was to curl up against Ricks chest and give in.

"Yea, think yer ready fer another nap. Gonna pick ya up and get ya ta bed, sweetheart. That alright?" Ricks words were hushed, and all Daryl could do was nod his head. There was no denying that he was about to fall asleep, and if he had the choice between sleeping while kneeling on the floor, and sleeping in an actual bed, well. It wasn't a difficult decision to make.

He didn't remember being picked up and carried, but once he was laid down, he grabbed for Ricks wrist, holding it tight, prompting Rick to still.

"What's wrong, darlin'?"

"Said ya wouldn' leave me 'gain. Want ya ta stay." The archer whispered, keeping his grip firm. He didn't want Rick to go, and he knew he didn't deserve to ask for anything, especially after having moved without Ricks permission but-

"I ain' leavin' ya, Daryl. Promised ya that." Rick soothed, leaning down to place a kiss to the archers forehead. "Jus' need ta get somethin' from downstairs, an' I'll be right back, a'right? I promise."

Daryl nodded, reluctantly releasing Rick. Rick said he'd come back. Rick had promised he would. He trusted Rick. And true to his word, the deputy returned from the living room only a few minutes after departing, toeing off his socks before climbing into bed with the archer, wrapping strong arms around him, holding him as he had the night before.

"Be a good boy now, an' sleep. Close yer eyes, darlin'. Deserve ta rest, been so good fer me. My sweet, perfect boy. So good fer me."

Daryl fell asleep to Rick whispering praise into his ear, content and smiling, and acutely aware of a simple truth.

He was Ricks in every single fucking way possible.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Get off the damn floor, boy! Men don' jus' lay there an' take it. What are ya, a man or a lil girl?!"_

 _The next kick to his chest blew the air right out of Daryl. He was 10, alone with his father that was once more drunk._

" _Can't-" He groaned out, regretting haven spoken at all as pain exploded in his gut, caused by another brutal kick. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't-_

" _Fuckin' pussy, since the day ya were born, useless, fucking useless little bitch."_

 _He was being shoved onto his aching stomach, and he knew all too well what was coming next. His back was already scarred, skin broken apart by his fathers belt, and this time he'd die, he'd fucking die. It hurt so much, and he still couldn't properly fill his lungs with oxygen, and the first lash of metal and leather made him damn near vomit all over the floor._

 _Why was this his life? What had he done to deserve this?_

 _His sight was starting to blur, every pulse of sharp, agonizing pain making it worse. He wasn't going to make it this time. This time, he'd really die._

" _Daryl-"_

 _That voice.. He knew that voice._

" _Daryl, its okay, come on baby, open yer eyes fer me."_

 _Yes, he knew this person, trusted them, despite not being able to remember_ who _they were._

" _That's it sweetheart, that's it, jus' open yer eyes. Come back ta me."_

Daryl jerked awake, eyes wide as he searched for the source of the voice he loved so much, disoriented and frightened.

"There ya are. Doin' so good Daryl. Yer a'right, yer safe."

"Rick." The hunter croaked, turning his head and finally laying eyes on the cops face. It took another second for him to realize he was covered in cold sweat, his clothes sticking to his skin, cheeks wet from tears.

"I'm right here." The older male soothed. "Ain't goin' no where."

Fuck. He'd had a nightmare, had woken Rick up, had kept him from sleeping before his shift. Why the fuck couldn't he just be normal?

"'m sorry, I. 'm fine now, jus'. Go back ta sleep, ya need ta rest 'fore work-"

"Called in sick 'fore we laid down ta sleep, an' before ya say anythin' 'bout it, I don' want ta hear it. Don' worry about that now. Fuck darlin', yer still shaking like a leaf." Rick interrupted, slowly shifting his body closer, hovering a hand over Daryls chest, glancing at him for permission. How was Rick so perfect, so understanding and caring, everything no one else had ever been.. And so he nodded, granting his permission.

"There ya go sweetheart." Rick murred, his palm hot even through the fabric, resting right above his heart. "Thats it. Ya jus' calm down fer me. Deep breaths."

The fear slowly leaked from his body as the hunter did as he was told, breathing deep and slow, keeping his gaze glued to the gorgeous blue eyes of the man beside him. The shaking stopped, slowly, but eventually it did, and the hunter had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. What kind of man cried while in another mans bed? Rick would get tired of this, he _would_ , and then..

"Daryl." The archers head snapped upward at Ricks commanding tone, already disturbingly comfortable with mindlessly following the cop, handing himself over without a second of hesitation. "What're ya thinkin'?" And god, Daryl didn't want to reply to that. Wanted to just get up and leave, and forget the existence of Rick fucking Grimes. So why couldn't he bring himself to move?

"Jus'." He started, then falling silent again, only to continue a moment later. "Jus' think thangs would be easier. If I didn'. Ya know."

"I know." Rick replied softly, moving his hand up the archers chest, over his throat, cupping his cheek gently. "But I'll do whatever I can ta help, darlin'. Anythin' ya need. An' that includes helpin' ya calm down when ya had a bad dream."

"Don' mind me wakin' ya up like this?" Daryl asked almost timidly, gaze lowered to Ricks broad chest.

"No, sweetheart. I don' mind at all." It was hard to believe the older male, to take him by his word and just.. _trust_. He'd never relied on anyone his entire life, had always taken care of himself. That wasn't how his life seemed to be anymore, though. Rick was right here with him, had comforted him whenever the redneck had freaked out on him, and shown incredible patience, without asking Daryl for anything in return. If there was ever a person worth trusting, it just _had_ to be Rick. "Almost time fer ya ta go ta work. Close yer eyes for a lil' longer, darlin'. I'll wake ya up soon."

* * *

From the minute Daryl had gotten into his pick up, all he had wanted to do was get back out, and crawl back into bed with Rick.

But worked called, and so, after borrowing one of the deputy's t-shirts, Daryl had made his way. Rick had woken him just as he had promised, prepared coffee for them as Daryl showered, and gently squeezed his hand right as he was about to walk through the front door, reminding the redneck to call him once he was home.

"No more callin' while drivin', darlin'." Rick had said, and Daryl hadn't even thought of protesting, just nodded.

He was elbow deep into the Impala he'd been working on when his phone started to vibrate in his pants pocket. Cursing under his breath, Daryl straightened himself, wiping his hands on a towel before retrieving the phone, grunting quietly as he didn't recognize the number on the screen.

"Dixon." He grunted into the speaker, not particularly keen on talking to anyone. He was still working through the events of the weekend. Talking to people only made it harder to focus.

"Hey, lil' brother."

 _Merle._

Fuck. Sunday had been visitation day, and he hadn't been there.

"'ey Merle." He replied, lifting his thumb to his mouth, nibbling at the already open flesh. He really did have to shake that nervous habit.. But not today.

"Weren' here, lil' brother. Ya ferget about yer big brother a'ready?" Merle quipped, but Daryl wasn't fooled. There was more to this call than just a friendly conversation. Phone calls were, after all, limited.

"Had shit ta do, Merle." The archer ground out, wanting nothing more than to get back to his work. "Gonna come next time."

"What was so important that ya left me hanging there, lil brother? This what I get fer taking care of ya yer whole life? Can't even come see ol' Merle?"

"Like that's what ya want me there for." Daryl snapped. "All ya want are smokes an' money. That's why yer callin', ain't it? Want me ta send some?"

"Least ya can do fer skipping out on yer own blood, don'cha think? Took care of ya all my life, didn' I? Ya ain't gonna help me out?" And there Merle went again, playing the fucking _family_ card, something he knew would _always_ trigger guilt in Daryl. The Dixon ground his teeth, remained silent, because Merle was the only family he had left, and he couldn't bare to lose him.

"Gonna send some after work." Daryl grunted, curling his hand currently not holding the phone into a fist, wanting so badly to punch someone, anything, to fucking _hurt_ whoever came across his way... "Quit callin' me at work, or there ain't gonna be no money ta send."

"Knew I could count on ya, lil brother. I'll see ya next sunday."

The line went dead, and only the thought of Rick being unable to reach him saved the cell phone in his hand from being shattered against a wall. Instead, it was shoved back into his pocket, where it would remain until it was time to let the deputy know that he was home.

* * *

The trip to the bank had been more time consuming than Daryl had expected, and instead of being home by seven at he latest as he had expected, it was shortly past eight by the time he had finally walked into the shack. The worn sofa held little comfort, but the archer settled on it none the less, determined to enjoy his brothers absence as much as he could.

He had yet to check in with Rick, but fuck, after the day he had.. Daryl glanced at the clock, and decided that even if he called, the cop wouldn't have time to talk. He was well into his shift, probably out in the patrol car with his partner. Surely, he wouldn't mind if Daryl skipped one phone call. He'd shoot Rick a text in the morning, and that would be that. A small voice in his head whispered to him, saying that this was a bad decision, that Rick had been _very_ clear, that not calling could stir up all kind of trouble...

But who the fuck was Rick to tell him what to do anyway? Daryl couldn't help but growl at the conflicting emotions arising in him at that question. He barely knew Rick, and already he was letting the man call the shots, like he did with Merle, and what if this relationship was a big fucking mistake? There _had_ to be something in it for the cop. No one had ever treated him well, and he wasn't stupid enough to believe someone was going to start now. And yet, when he thought of how Rick had held him, had chased away the fear and the insecurity, he truly wanted to believe that the older male was sincere. That this wasn't about an angle he was working.

"Real fuckin' likely." Daryl mumbled to himself, shaking his head. He wanted to believe, wanted to so badly it hurt, but whenever he went over it in his head, nothing seemed to add up. Rick was strong, gorgeous, smart, and good, and Daryl was.. "Fuck."

It was all too much. Everything that was going on was too much to handle, and Daryl knew only one way to stop from drowning in thoughts and feelings. The bottle of Jack was open in his hand only minutes later, promising a dreamless sleep. Fuck Merle. Fuck Rick. The redneck grabbed his phone and turned it off.

No one was going to disturb him tonight.

* * *

Morning came with another hangover. Not that the hunter was surprised. He had finished the entire bottle without a second thought. His phone had remained off. He'd stumbled to bed and passed out, still wearing the cops T-shirt.

After a shower, the worst of his hungover was over, but his head still pounded. He had to get to work, he was already late, and glancing at the phone that was still laying on the couchs worn arm rest, Daryl wondered if Rick had called. If he was mad at Daryl. Or worse, if he hadn't called, hadn't cared to find out why the redneck hadn't called. Whichever it was, Daryl wasn't going to deal with it now. It could wait until tonight.

He left to work, leaving the phone behind.

* * *

He should have taken his phone.

Should've fucking taken it, been a man, and face whatever was waiting for him.

Work had been a disaster. Daryl had been too distracted coloring out the different scenarios in his head to focus on his work. Twice he had gotten his finger stuck in between metal parts, bruising it. He'd dropped almost every single tool he worked with at least once, prompting Len into teasing comments every single time.

Evening couldn't come quick enough, and when Daryl finally sat at the wheel in his pick up, all he could do was rest his head against the over heated rubber, and sigh deeply. He'd fucked up again, he knew he had, Rick was going to be _livid_ , any chance at something between them was gone, and all because he'd let Merle get to him, like he always did.

There was no point putting it off any longer. He had to face Rick eventually, or at least find out if the man had even bothered to call when Daryl hadn't. And so the redneck turned the keys in the ignition, listening to the motor roar to life.

The entire way home Daryl chewed at the tortured skin on his thumb, not caring about the blood now seeping from the wounds, licking it off his lips every now and then. Once more, he went over the things that could happen in his head, pulling up to the shack so in thought that it wasn't until he had turned off the motor and stepped out of the car that he realized someone was sitting on his porch.

"Daryl." Rick greeted, but unlike usually, he wasn't smiling. In fact, the cop was glaring, lips set into a tight line, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Daryl couldn't reply, too stunned to speak. What was Rick doing here? How had he found out where he lived? Why had he come here?

"Missed yer call last night." Rick started to move forward, moving gracefully, smooth, like a lion stalking its prey. The redneck swallowed, moved backwards out of instinct. "An' when I tried ta call ya, yer phone was off."

"Rick, I-"

"So I figured, maybe ya were too tired ta talk." Rick continued, now standing before Daryl, blue eyes drilling into the redneck, causing goose bumps to rise all over Daryls body. "But then I called this mornin', an' yer phone was still off. Ya care ta tell me why, darlin'?"

The pet name that had sounded so sweet whenever it had been muttered in the past suddenly stung, and Daryl couldn't help lowering his eyes to the ground in shame.

"Wasn't-" He croaked, but his voice broke. Daryl swallowed, and tried again. "Wasn't too tired. Jus' couldn't-" He shook his head in defeat, frustrated with himself beyond belief, and still incapable of forming more words.

"Couldn't what, Daryl?" Answer me." Ricks tone was demanding, left no room for defiance.

"Couldn't talk ta ya." He snapped, fists curling against his thighs as he refused to look the cop in the eye, too ashamed, and fucking _humiliated_ that he'd been so weak, that a single call from his brother and a stupid nightmare had done this to him. "Nightmare was bad 'nough, wakin' ya up and shit, and then Merle called 'cause I didn' come by durin' visitation, and I-. Was too much, too fucking much, an' I jus' didn' want ta have ta think 'bout nothin'."

"An' ya couldn'a told me that?" Rick snapped, making Daryl flinch. "I was worried 'bout ya, ya understand that? Thought ya'd gotten in a fuckin' accident, or gotten stabbed by some punk fer yer money. Can't fuckin' disappear on me like that Daryl!"

"I didn' mean ta." The archer mumbled, lowering his head, nails digging into his skin through the material of his jeans. "Didn' mean ta make ya worry, I didn' think, 'm sorry Rick, 'm sorry." Daryl felt utterly unhinged, unable to stop the trembling of his body, wanting nothing more than to fall to his knees and cry. And fuck, how did Rick always manage to do this, to push past his defenses and wrap his hand around the hunters core, capable of crushing it with a single word.

"Damn straight yer sorry." Rick replied, although his voice had softened. "Never gonna do it again, ya hear me? If ya can't talk ta me, that's fine, but you _gotta_ let me know yer okay. A'right?"

"I will, I promise." Daryl replied hastily, hoping that he'd be forgiven, that Rick would touch him gently, wouldn't hurt him for his mistake, like everyone else always had. "Never gonna do it again."

"Good. That's what I wanted to hear." Rick's toned had softened, but still held the barest of an edge, a hardness that made Daryl want to whimper and grovel. To roll onto his back and show off his belly, and make the cop happy again. And as always, Rick seemed to pick up on the archers distress. Rick had moved even closer, pressed their foreheads together, strong hands clasping his hips and holding tight. "Hey. 's alright now, darlin'. Aint mad at you no more. Okay? Just needed ya ta understand how worried I was. But ya promised ya wouldn' do it again, an' I trust ya. I _believe_ ya."

Daryl couldn't stop the whimper that tore itself from his throat, and then it all came apart. He wrapped his shaking arms around the deputy's neck, crashing his lips into Rick's, pressing his form against the warm body before him with such force he almost threw them over and onto the ground. But Rick was his rock, figuratively and literally, holding him steady even as Daryl fell apart. The kiss was violent, teeth and tongue and _aggressive,_ and all Daryl could think was how perfect Rick tasted, how warm his hands were, how _amazing_ it was to feel Rick harden against his thigh. Rick _still_ wanted him, _still_ reacted to his kiss, his touch, and maybe he could make him happy by.. He ripped himself away from those sinful lips, panting hard, tangling his fingers into thick locks.

"Want ya ta take me." He husked, tightening his grip on Ricks hair, unwilling to let him get away again. "Right now. I want ya ta take me inside, and tie me down, and fuck me into _fuckin' Georgia_."

"Daryl, don' gotta do this. Its alright, darlin'." Rick soothed, bringing his hands to Daryl's cheeks, cradling the hunters head ever so gently.

"I _want_ ta. I want this. I want _you_." He growled, grabbing hold of Ricks collar instead, trying to push him backwards, towards the shack and into his bed. Because it had all been building up to this moment, the moment Daryl surrendered to Rick in every single way he knew. He'd hand over all control, everything that had been boiling below his skin, had kept him up at night and made tears prick at his eyes. "Don' tell me ya don', can feel yer hard. Ya want me, ya do, and I wan'-"

"That's enough!" Rick barked, startling Daryl into stillness."We ain't gonna do this now, an' not like this. Ya hear me?" Once more, the cops voice had softened after Daryl had stopped moving. "I do want ya. But when we do have sex, I don' want it ta be because yer feelin' guilty, or because ya think I'm mad at ya. That ain't how this works."

Daryl grunted, unwilling to meet the cops gaze, biting down on his lower lip as Rick spoke. Being rejected stung like a bitch, it always had, and still did, even when the archer knew Rick had a point. He was looking out for Daryl.

"I don' know what ta-.." Daryl mumbled, attempting to communicate that he didn't know what to do, that he was once again at a loss for words.

"Gonna go inside. Yer gonna tell me what's botherin' you, what made it too much ta handle." Rick soothed, nuzzling ever so gently against the archers cheek. "An' I'm gonna help ya feel better 'bout it."

"Yer late fer work a'ready." Daryl replied, moving into the gentle touch anyway. He never could refuse Rick, not his orders, nor physical touch.

"Switched shifts when ya didn' call this mornin'." Daryl huffed, shaking his head, steadily avoiding eye contact, taking a step back to separate their bodies, to get some room to breathe.

"Can't keep doin' that Rick, shouldn' mess with yer job just 'cause yer worried 'bout me. Gonna get yerself fired."

"No, I'm not. An' I wasn' about ta jus' keep wonderin' if ya were okay. I needed ta know. Needed ta make sure." Rick sighed, running a hand over his face. "An' I was right ta worry, yer not fine. So, lets get inside, an' we can talk."

Daryl grunted, lowering his head again, wanting nothing more than to tell Rick to leave, to not have him walk into the shack and see the sorry state it was in. He didn't want Rick to worry even more. Once glance at the officers face told him he had no other option but to do as he was told. And so Daryl lead the way, Rick trailing behind him.

As always, the shack smelled of cold smoke, the mostly boarded up windows allowing only for a few rays of sunlight to filter in. Ashtrays and the empty bottle of jack laying in front of the couch, a reminder of what he'd been up to last night.

"Sorry 's such a mess, didn't really expect anyone ta come by." The redneck mumbled, moving towards the couch to remove the bottle, dusting off a patch of it so Rick could sit in an at least semi-clean place.

"Don't worry about it." Rick replied, quickly dismissing the topic of Daryl's cleaning skills. "Sit down with me. Tell me 'bout what happened." Daryl frowned, still reluctant to discuss this. He did as he was told anyway, sat his ass down, and waited for Rick to join him.

"Sunday is visitation day." He began slowly, his gaze glued to his hands as they fiddled with a tear in the fabric enveloping the furniture they were seated on. "Didn' go 'cause I was with ya. Merle called, asked why I wasn' there, all that.. Said I owed him to at least come by and see him. Send him some money for cigs." Daryl shook his head, swallowing, trying to convey what was bothering him so Rick would understand. "Merle been in prison more often than not his whole life. He's a jerk, but he's my brother. An' he's right, he done right by me, I should'a been there, an' I wasn' because I wanted ta be with _you_ more than I wanted ta be with him."

"An' now ya feel guilty?" Rick questioned softly, raising his hand to the archers face, as always waiting for confirmation that touching was okay and only then placing it against the archers chin, turning his head to face the older male. "Feel like ya betrayed yer brother by bein' with me?"

"I don' know." Daryl replied, sounding almost defeated. "Guess so, yeah. 's not that yer not a good guy or nothin'. Jus'. I gotta see him next time, Rick. I jus' have ta. An' I know thats pro'lly gonna mean we won't see each other much on the weekends, an' I don' want'cha ta be mad at me, or.." Daryl swallowed again, trying to will the lump in his throat to go away, without success.

"Or what, darlin'?" Rick asked, trailing his thumb over the archers scruffy cheek.

"Or leave fer someone that'll make time for ya instead of visitin' their felon brother in prison. An' I know what yer gonna say, that ya understand, an' ya ain't mad, ain't going nowhere but. How do ya know ya won' feel different 'bout this in a few weeks? Isn' finding someone that already knows what they're doin', and ain't in the closet easier fer ya?" The hunter sighed, lowering his head, breaking the point of contact between him and the deputy. He didn't want to be comforted, didn't _deserve_ it.

"Would be easier, yeah." Rick agreed, and Daryl felt his heart stop. So this was it after all. He should have seen it coming, should have- "But easy ain't what I wan'. An' before ya ask, complicated ain't what I want, neither. Want you. Specifically you, Daryl. I've told you this before, an' I still mean it. So I won' see ya on Sundays. Yer family is important, an' I ain't gonna leave ya over wantin' ta see yer brother. I jus' want ya ta be happy."

"What if makin' me happy makes ya unhappy?" Daryl asked, giving a startled grunt as Rick moved closer, making the cushions beneath him dip, shift his position until he was inches away from Rick's body.

"Darlin'. Makin' ya happy could never make me unhappy. When ya smile at me, my heart stutters. When ya laugh, its like I'm listenin' ta music." Rick moved closer, running the tip of his nose along the archers neck, inhaling deeply, making Daryl blush and grumble. "An' when ya laid yer head on my lap an' almos' fell asleep, that made me feel better than anythin' else in the world has in.. a real long time. Ya ain't gonna get rid of me by goin' away one day of the week. I ain't goin' no where until ya tell me ta leave. Until then, I'm gonna do whatever I can ta see ya smile. Give ya everythin' ya ask for."

"Yer such a sap, ya know that?" Daryl snorted, trying and failing to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards in a small smile.

"Only fer you, darlin'. Now, why don'cha grab a shower, an' maybe we can grab some dinner, or a drink."

"Ya tellin' me I smell?" Daryl teased, rising from the couch.

"Tellin' ya if I keep lookin' at ya covered in grease an' sweat, I might have ta clean ya myself." Daryl's cheeks turned a deep red. Fuck Rick for being so.. infuriatingly perfect. How was the man even real? "So, dinner?"

"Could stay here." Daryl suggested , glancing at Rick from the corner of his eye. "Could jus'.. watch somethin' an' relax like we did 'fore." And either Rick could read minds, or they had come to the point where the deputy could read between the archers words, because he seemed to immediately understand what Daryl was asking for.

"Take yer shower darlin', an' we can do whatever ya want."

* * *

In the end, the evening had turned out completely different than Daryl had expected. There had been no fight, no awkwardness about the state of his home, or the cleanliness. Rick had made dinner from what he found in the archers cupboards, and they had retired to the couch, Daryl on his knees beside Rick, resting his head against the male's thigh, sighing with content as strong fingers moved through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

Shit, he had expected Rick to be pissed, maybe throw a punch at the hunter for being such a selfish prick. Instead, the cop had been understanding and kind, which on its own was enough for Daryl to be even more awed by him. It was almost surreal, how good Rick had become at reading him. Whatever Daryl wanted, Rick seemed to know, like how Daryl loved when nails scraped against the spot right behind his ear with just a little more force than any other spot. How Rick had known Daryl was getting thirsty by a quick flick of the hunters eyes to the beer the cop was holding in his other hand, and had immediately offered him a sip. For hours they sat like this as the little TV filled the room with chatter, the sun sinking like a stone.

"Daryl." Rick's voice snapped the archer into a more aware state, glancing up into perfect blue eyes, signaling he was paying attention. "Think its time fer bed, darlin'. Yer lookin' awful tired."

"Can ya - " Daryl stopped, swallowed, averted his eyes and tried again. "Want'cha ta stay. Jus' fer tonight. Can put new sheets on the mattress an' clean up the room. Do anythin' ya wan'. Jus'.. stay."

"Anythin' ya want." Rick was smiling at the archer again, and god, would it ever stop feeling like he was soaring when that happened? Daryl didn't reply, just moved towards his room, insecurity flaring up in his chest for the first time in hours. What if Rick saw what a dump his place was, and changed his mind?

"In here.." Daryl mumbled, suddenly much more aware of just how many makeshift ashtrays and empty bottles of beer and other alcohol laid beside the mattress. "Sorry 's such a mess, jus' lemme take these out-" The hunter hurried to get rid off the trash, his cheeks burning with humiliation. Maybe this had been a bad idea after all.

"Ya drink like this a lot?" Rick questioned, kneeling down beside Daryl to help gather up the items that needed to be removed. Unlike anyone else the redneck had ever met, Rick didn't sound judgmental, or disapproving as he asked, just.. concerned.

"Used ta." He admitted quietly, sighing quietly. "But. Been gettin' less an' less since.." Daryl left the rest unsaid, no doubt in his mind that Rick understood what he was saying. That since Rick had walked into his life, he hadn't felt the need to numb himself with booze. "Lemme get clean sheets."

"These look clean 'nough fer one night. Let's jus' get some sleep. Can worry 'bout clean sheets next time I sleep over." Daryl couldn't hide the surprise he felt at the words being spoken. Rick was planning to sleep here again.. If any of Merle's friends came over, even though it was unlikely with the older Dixon in prison, and Rick was here.. But that was a problem for another day. Now, all the archer wanted was to lay down beside the deputy, and forget that anything else in the world existed.

* * *

Awareness returned to the archer slowly, eyelids heavy, but someone was calling for him, was holding him tight, rocking him, not allowing for him to slip back into sleep. Daryl gave a small groan, blinking against the darkness. What had woken hi-

" _Fuck, Daryl.._ "

Daryl was wide awake now. Rick was behind him, one arm wrapped possessively over the archers chest, plastering the archers back to the deputy's chest, their legs tangled together, almost like the first time they had slept beside each other, with one crucial difference. There was something hard pressing against the archers ass, sliding over the fabric of his shorts, ripping a soft groan from him.

"Rick.." He whispered, curling his fingers into the pillow and the sheets, instinctively rocking his hips, pushing back against the firm length. "Rick, what're ya doin'.." He got no reply other than another thrust against his mounds and a deep groan. That's when Daryl realized that the cop was very much _still asleep_. Was probably dreaming of Daryl as he rutted against him, creating friction in places Daryl had never allowed anyone else to touch. And fucking hell, just the _thought_ of Rick's cock so close to his tight hole made Daryl tremble with want, made pleasure coil between his legs in a way he had never experienced before. The redneck knew he should wake Rick, that while he wasn't exactly to blame for what was happening, not saying anything and letting it happen wouldn't be what Rick wanted. Another forceful thrust, and Daryl almost forgot what he was supposed to do. They were both still semi-dressed, wearing briefs and t-shirts, but the layers of fabric separating them didn't do much to damped Daryls excitement. Ever point of contact between their bodies made his skin tingle, ever slide against his ass making his own cock twitch desperately. "Rick.. Fuck, common, wake up.."

A low groan made Daryl shiver once more, unable to resist the impulse to push back against Rick's cock.

"Mh..." The deputy hummed low in his throat, a kind of content rumble Daryl had only ever heard from canines. And maybe it was better to just close his eyes and pretend it never happened. Something that felt em _this/em_ good couldn't be wrong, so why stop it? And just as he had reached that decision, the rocking motion stopped. For a second, the archer held himself completely still, trying hard to stop panting, so maybe Rick would think he was asleep. "How long've I been doin' that?" Fuck. Rick was definitely awake.

"Don' know. Couple minutes?" Daryl replied almost timidly. He shouldn't have just let it happen, he'd known it the second he'd started using his upper head. He'd fucked up again. "'m sorry. I should'a woken ya, jus' thought.. Felt real good an'.. didn' wan' it ta stop. Was wrong ta let ya keep goin'. Knew ya wan'ed ta wait.."

"You're right. Ya should'a woken me." Rick replied evenly, but instead of moving away as Daryl thought he would, he simply shifted them, moving Daryl to lay on his back and crawling over him, legs pressing against the outside of the archers thighs, broad hands placed on either side of Daryls head. The cops expression was serious, but not angry, as he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the archers cheek. "What did ya like 'bout it? Tell me, darlin'. Wanna know what makes ya feel good." Despite it being the last question Daryl had expected to come out of that gorgeous mouth, he had no choice but to reply.

"Was thinkin' what it'd feel like." He mumbled, cautiously placing his hands at the cops hips, not entirely sure if he was allowed to touch. When Rick didn't protest, he tightened his hold on the man's hips, continuing quietly. "If we weren' wearin' clothes. How hot yer cock would be 'gainst my skin."

"Good, Daryl, go on." Rick encouraged sweetly, leaning down to place another kiss against the corner of his mouth. "Tell me what else ya were thinkin' 'bout."

"Was thinkin' 'bout lettin' ya touch me.. lettin' ya touch me.. _there."_ The archer swallowed loudly, digging teeth into the flesh of his lower lip, too embarrassed to actually spell out his thoughts. He didn't have to, the look Rick was giving him enough to tell him the cop understood him just fine.

"Ya ever let anyone else do that? Touch ya like that?" Daryl shook his head no almost immediately, prompting a groan from Rick that seemed to come from low in his chest. "Want me ta do it, though, yeah? Wan' me ta be the first ta touch that tight lil' hole of yours?" Daryl could barely suppress the whimper threatening to slip past his lips. He'd never really taken part in dirty talk as most of his encounters were only long enough to get him and his partner off. He'd never thought he'd like it much anyway, had never really liked talking much. But this was different, hearing Rick talk like that made him squirm, made his cock ache with the need to be touched.

"Yea, wan' ya ta. Wan' ya ta open me up an' fuck me. Wan' ya inside me, all of ya. Wan' ya ta make me scream yer name, forget any other guy I ever fucked." He didn't know where the words were coming from, and it didn't matter. Rick's reaction was amazing, pupils blown out, leaving behind only a sliver of blue.

"Darlin', when I'm done with ya, yer never gonna think of any other guy ever again." Rick purred, leaning down to reward the redneck with a hot, almost sloppy kiss. "Look so good like this sweetheart, so fuckin' _hot_.."

"Rick, please jus'.. Need ya ta touch me, please, please, please.." Daryl mumbled, arching his back to try and get some sort of friction, Rick's lean form too far away to actually accomplish anything, and yet unable to restrain himself, to tell him body to hold still. Fuck looking needy, he fucking _needed_ , and if begging was what Rick wanted from him, than he'd beg.

"Love when ya ask me fer it." Rick husked, finally, fucking _finally_ , lowering his body to press against Daryls, resting his arms on each side of Daryls head, allowing him to support his weight and not crush the redneck in the process of getting him off. "G'wan now, move yer hips. Ya wanna come, ya gotta earn it. Can't let ya get off without any punishment at all after ya didn' wake me up. Come on, sweetheart, show me how much ya wan' me."

"More than anythin'." Daryl gasped, wrapping strong arms around the cops chest, clinging tightly, rocking his hips upwards desperately, his cock sliding against Rick's toned stomach, panting loudly against the male's neck. "Wan' ya, Rick, wan' ya so much, oh god fuckin' hell, need ya, wan' ya, fuck, fuck, fuck.."

"Don' come without asking, darlin'." Rick whispered, turning his head towards the archers, grazing his teeth along Daryls ear, only to nip gently at the top of it. "G'wan , ask me, know yer close."

"Fuck, please Rick, please, need ta come, need ta, _please_ " Daryl was burning up from the inside, could feel himself growing closer to his peak with each frantic thrust, pre-come leaking from his tip, creating a small , damp spot on his briefs. "Close, 'm close, Rick _please-"_

" _Come_."

Being given all the permission Daryl needed, he thrust against Rick twice more before he was pushed over the edge, throwing his head back , releasing a whimpering moan as he came so hard he almost went cross eyed. Doing these things with Rick had always been more intense than his other encounters, and Daryl had no doubt that he'd never get tired of being with the deputy like this. It took minutes for him to come down from the high, finding himself curled against Rick's side, resting his head on his broad chest as the cop whispered sweetly to him.

"Did good darlin', so perfect fer me." Rick was saying, rubbing over the archers back in small circles. "Always so perfect, my sweet boy, make me so happy, so proud of ya."

Daryl hummed quietly, allowing himself to be showered in praise, lazily glancing at Rick's chest and stomach, and lower.. only to realize that he'd once more been the only one to come. Frustration bubbled up in his chest, a sharp contrast to the content he was feeling, enough to spur the archer into action.

"My turn now." He grunted, reaching out for Ricks cock, rubbing at the impressive length through the fabric hiding it from sight. "Said ya'd give me what I wan'ed, said ya wan'ed ta make me happy. Wan'ta do this fer ya, Rick. Wanna make ya feel good, too." Rick gave him a thoughtful look, as if there was a lot more to this than Daryl was aware of. But then the cop nodded, placing a soft kiss against the archers lips.

"G'wan then." He encouraged, lifting his hips, pressing his cock against Daryls palm. It was all the permission the hunter needed, moving his hand upwards to slide under Ricks briefs and wrap around the cop's length, biting his lip to avoid making any sounds. Rick didn't have to know that just holding his damn cock was enough to make the archers own twitch with interest. The first strokes were kept gentle and slow, as Daryl tried to memorize the weight and feel of the deputy's cock in his hand, tried to imagine what it looked like based on the information he was getting now. It wasn't until Rick gave a small groan and thrust into his hand that Daryl tightened his grip, picked up the pace, slid his thumb over the prominent vein pulsing against his hand. Daryl was _so fucking ready_ for this, had been waiting to see Rick come apart for so long, it almost seemed surreal now that it was finally going to happen. The hunter glued his gaze to Rick's face, watched as the male began to pant, low moans slipping past plump limps.

"'s it darlin'." Rick slurred, eyes half shut, chest rising and falling rapidly the longer Daryl kept up with ministrations to the cop's engorged member. "Keep goin', don'cha dare stop now."

"Not gonna stop." Daryl whispered, rubbing at Rick's tip, gathering the seed that oozing out of the tip only to slide it along his length, groaning low in his throat. "Wan'cha ta come for me, wanna see yer face when ya fall apart, wanna.. wanna _taste_.."

That seemed to be the last straw. Rick came with a howl, and Daryl had never seen anything more beautiful. Rick looked absolutely lost in pleasure, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut in rapture. He would definitely never get tired of seeing the deputy like this. He'd do anything to get to be with Rick like this time and time again, until the day he died.

Minutes passed in silence as the deputy calmed his breathing, and only after Daryl was sure the last twitch of the deputys cock had passed, did he release the man's cock, sliding his hand out from under his briefs. His hand was covered in come, and god, he wanted to taste it, wanted to.. He brought his palm to his mouth, flicking his tongue out, and did what he had been dying to do for what seemed like an eternity. The taste wasn't off putting as Daryl had feared it might be. It tasted bitter, the consistency was different than anything else he'd ever put in his mouth, and still he knew he'd be craving it from now on.

"Fuck, Daryl. Ya have no idea how hot ya look right now." Rick was smiling again, pulling the archers hand towards his own face, lazily licking off the rest of his seed.

"Don' look so bad yerself." Daryl commented dryly, willing his cock to stop twitching and settle down. It was still the middle of the night,, and there was no reason to keep his deputy from getting as much sleep as possible, now that they were both satisfied. "Get some sleep."

"Yer cute when you're bein' bossy." Rick teased, only to wrap an arm around Daryls shoulder, holding him against his side. "Get some sleep too, darlin'. An' don' leave fer work without wakin' me up an sayin' goodbye, alright?"

"Promise I'll wake ya." Daryl muttered, nuzzling against Ricks chest with a content sigh.

This is how things should always be, he decided. Him and Rick together, no matter where they were. Daryl had found a home, after all these years going without.

Rick was his home.


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl's week had been shit. There was no other way to put it. Len had taken an impromptu vacation, and Daryl had been stuck working overtime to get everything the lazy son of a bitch had left behind. Rick had been working the night shift, and there was no time left for them to meet, only serving to irritate Daryl more. It was Sunday again, and Daryl's chest ached with the need to be close to the deputy, to curl up against Rick's chest at night and get some much needed sleep. Instead, Daryl was spending the day driving up to the prison currently housing his older brother.

Sure, they had called each other each day, talked for as long as possible before one of them inevitably had to give in to exhaustion and fall asleep. Still, it was better than nothing, and with all the overtime he was doing, for once, his paycheck would cover everything he needed and more, including a space heater and a new blanket and pillow. The tracker wouldn't let Rick sleep in his sorry excuse for a bed like that again, not with at least trying to provide some sort of comfort. With winter coming, the thicker blanket was definitely necessary. The pillow had been a last minute purchase before he left the store, remembering the way Rick had rubbed at his neck the following morning, indicating that he hadn't slept all too comfortably.

He forced himself to cast all thoughts of the cop from his mind as he entered the prison, snarling at the guard that patted him down before allowing him to enter the visitation room. Merle was already sitting at one of the metal tables, grinning widely as Daryl made his way over, sitting down across from the older male.

"'ey there lil' brother." The Dixon greeted, cheery as ever. "Ya miss me?"

"Like I'd miss the damn plague." Daryl grunted in reply, shaking his head. "Ya stayin' out of trouble?"

"Aw, come on man. Know ya don' have no fun without ol' Merle around."

The banter went on for a bit, and for just a moment, Daryl thought that maybe this would go well. That Merle really had just wanted to see his little brother, had maybe even _missed_ him. That there was no ulterior motive behind his insistence on Daryl visiting. Until, as always, Merle finally brought up what he really wanted.

"So, was thinkin', since yer savin' money with me bein' locked up, ya could get yer big brother a TV. Gimme somethin' ta do in this place." Daryl let his eyes close for a second, taking a deep breath. Of course that's what Merle had wanted him here for.

"Got plenty ta do in here, Merle." He gruffed, glaring at his brother.

"Like what? _Read_?" Merle scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Come on now, Daryl. Not askin' fer nothin' fancy. Jus' somethin' ta pass the time."

"Wouldn' have ta pass the time if ya hadn' gotten yerself arrested." Daryl spat, eyes narrowing. "Only reason yer here is 'cause ya can' keep yer damn mouth shut, man."

"Ya really wanna start, Darleena? Wan' me ta remind ya how I kept ya fed by poachin'? Took care of ya when no one else did? Kept a alive, didn' I?" Daryl flinched, lowering his head, avoiding his brothers gaze. "Did right by ya my whole life, lil' brother, don'cha forget that. Not askin' fer much in return. I'm yer kin, boy."

And god fucking damnit, there is was again. _Kin_. Daryl swallowed, stayed quiet, didn't want to get into this in front of the guards and other people visiting the inmates. He hated Merle for putting him in this position, making it seem like Daryl didn't _care_ , just because he didn't spend money on Merle's wishes. But fuck, he could still remember how hungry he had been one night as a child, how Merle had snatched a sheep from one of the farmers to feed them, and got beat bloody by their father when he found out.

"I'll get ya yer damn TV." Daryl relented, running a hand through his hair. He'd do anything to get Merle to look at him like he was worth something. To finally appreciate his little brother.

"That's what I wan'ed ta hear, lil brother. Now why don'cha tell me what ya been up to without ol' Merle."

* * *

Daryl sat at the wheel of his truck, still parked in the prison parking lot, forehead resting against the cold rubber, trying to keep the tears pricking his eyes at bay. He wasn't going to cry. He _wasn't_. He wasn't a pussy that cried over his brother being an ass, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone else see what he felt at that moment. So what if Merle had only asked him to visit to get something, wasn't that how it always had been between them? Merle would say 'jump', and Daryl would ask 'How high'. And in return, Merle stayed with him, didn't abandon him as quickly as he would have if he got nothing back. So why did it bother him so much now?

The answer to that question was as obvious as it was painful. Because Rick had showed him another way. The deputy had proved to the archer that he didn't have to give everything to earn his affection, or his protection. And sure, their relationship was a whole lot different that the relationship with his brother, but wasn't that what family was _supposed_ to be like? Shouldn't Merle appreciate the fact that he even bothered to come and visit, that he'd already sent money, enough to not ask for more?

So how did he always wind up here, having to push aside his own needs, and put Merle first? The prison approved TV would cost him more than he could afford. Regular meals wouldn't be possible, not with the bills he had payed and the things he had gotten to keep him, and maybe Rick, warm during the winter. Daryl felt worthless. Unwanted. Like this was going to be his entire life, one disappointment after the other.

Before he knew what he was doing, Daryl had pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, desperate to seek out the only person that made him feel like he wasn't completely useless. That he could do something right, make someone happy just by being around.

He had no idea if Rick would be home. Didn't even bother to call and check first. If Rick was on shift, Daryl would wait. He'd wait the whole fucking night if it meant he got to catch a glimpse of the deputy's perfect baby blues before heading off to work on no sleep. Rick, somehow, made everything alright again. A smile from the gorgeous man was enough to set the world right again, and Daryl yearned for that smile more than ever before.

The drive to Rick's seemed a lot longer than the drive to the prison from the shack, every mile creeping by as Daryl did his best not to overstep the speeding limit. Rick wouldn't be pleased if he arrived with a ticket, had warned him about driving safely. And so, even though all the hunter wanted was to floor the damn gas pedal and get there in under an hour, he forced himself to be mindful of the signs along the road. In fact, it soothed him just a bit to know he was following Rick's rules, that he was doing as he had been told, even if the cop would never know. He was doing something right, he _knew_ he was, and that in itself was comforting.

The sun was about to set, taking what little warmth it had provided during the day with it. Daryl didn't dare park his car right in front of Rick's house, not with Merle still on his mind. If someone saw.. God, if Merle ever found out Daryl was fucking a cop.. Swallowing heavily, Daryl left his car a few streets away, and walked the rest of the distance, keeping his head down. It was unlikely any of Merle's friends hung around a neighborhood like this, but just in case they were, they would never know who the archer had been visiting. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Merle would do to the deputy if he caught them.

Rick's car stood before the house, indicating that he was probably home. Relief washed over the archer at the sight, his heart beat accelerating as he walked up the steps to the porch, about the ring the bell when-

"Told ya ta get the _fuck_ out, Shane!"

Daryl startled, backing away from the door. He'd never heard Rick's voice laced with such rage before, not even the morning after Daryl had failed to follow orders.

"Damn it, Rick, will ya jus' _listen_ -" Daryl didn't recognize that voice, but whoever it belonged to was yelling at the top of his lungs. Anger rose in the archers chest at the sound of someone disrespecting Rick like that, in his own home of all places. No one had the right to treat his deputy like that. But it wasn't his place to do anything about it, he wasn't Ricks boyfriend. The cop didn't even know Daryl was here, and what if he didn't want help?

"I don' want ta hear it, so jus' fuckin' leave already!" Ricks reply was just as loud as the strangers had been, and Daryl was about to back away from the front door to let Rick sort the situation out himself, when a shattering noise made him freeze in his tracks. It sounded like something had been thrown against a wall, or the floor, and broken into pieces. And whatever had happened, the archer had had enough. Moving forward, he pushed at the door, finding it unlocked, and practically jumped into the hallway, quickly taking in the situation.

Rick was standing at the far end, expression surprised as he spotted the archer, standing behind the stranger that he'd been fighting with. At his feet laid shards of what presumable had been a vase of some sort. The stranger had turned to face Daryl as he'd barged in, tall and dark eyed, hair shaved close to his head. He was attractive, as much as the archer hated to admit that, and for a second he dreaded the possibility of this being another of Ricks.. whatever Daryl was, or even worse, his _boyfriend_. They all stood frozen, the man giving the archer a glare that would have been intimidating if Daryl hadn't been so damn _pissed_.

"Man told ya ta leave. Ya deaf or somethin'?" He snarled, stepping forward to get right in the guy's face, upper lip pulled up to bare teeth.

"And you are?" The brown eyed man asked, his tone cocky and confident, looking down at the tracker like he was trash.

"Ain't yer damn business who I am." Daryl spat, ignoring the way his gut clenched as he was looked down at for the millionth time in his life. "Rick told ya ta get the fuck out, so get ta it." Instead of replying, the man turned and addressed Rick, as if Daryl didn't exist.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me, Rick. Tell me this white trash ain't yer new piece of tail."

"Ain't no one's piece of tail." Daryl growled, fully intending to grab the bastard by the neck and forcefully remove him from the hallway. Rick didn't want him here, and Daryl wanted Rick to be happy. If he got into a fist fight over doing what he had to do to ensure that, the tracker was fine with that.

"Don' talk 'bout him like that." Rick sounded calmer now, more in control, and that alone helped ease Daryl's frayed nerves. It was going to be okay. Rick was going to solve this, was going to take control of the situation, and allow Daryl to follow. "An' he's right. Told ya ta leave. _Now_ , Shane."

"You know I'll be back." Shane replied, throwing another glance at Daryl. "This one won't keep you happy for too long, an' when he's gone, yer gonna come back."

"Rather die than come back." Rick replied through grit teeth, walking forward to grab Daryl's arm and pull him closer, and get him out of Shane's way. "Now leave, or I'll have ya arrested. Fuck, I'll do it _myself._ "

"Alright, darlin', I get it. Ya need more time." Shane's tone was belittling, making Daryl want to lash out again, to surge forward and put a fucking dent in the assholes face. But Rick's hand around his upper arm held him steady, and he'd never disobey his deputy again. Shane lifted his hands in surrender, walking out the door backwards, keeping his eyes trained on the blue eyed male. "I'll see ya soon, sweetheart."

Rick slammed the door shut the second Shane had passed over the door step, locking it with a defeated sigh. Daryl watched as he leaned his forehead against the cool wood, broad shoulders trembling, one broad hand placed on the door beside his head, the other curled up to a fist at the deputy's side.

"Rick.." Daryl started, swallowing hard before taking a step towards the older man, at a complete loss of words. He'd never seen Rick like this, had never experienced anything like this, and now he simply didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry." Rick gruffed, shaking his head slowly. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Don' be." Daryl replied, willing Rick to turn around, to at least _look_ at him, so maybe he could figure out what the cop needed. "Nothin' ta be sorry 'bout."

"Didn' want'cha ta see me like this." The deputy replied, still not turning around. "Shane.. He brings out the worst side of me."

"Worst of ya is still better than the best of anyone else I know." Daryl gathered his courage and took a step forward, fully intending to wrap his arms around Ricks chest and hold him. If Rick wouldn't come to him, then Daryl would come to Rick. He was just about to place his fingers against Rick's back when the deputy jerked away.

"Don'." Rick breathed, shoulders hunching over, head hanging between them. And here it was, the moment Daryl had overstepped, that Rick would tell him to leave and never come back. He shouldn't have burst in on them like this, shouldn't even have been here without checking in with Rick first. He was such a _idiot_. Had ruined it.

"I'll leave ya be. Jus' gotta let me out." Daryl gruffed, trying hard not to let his voice betray him, show how much the rejection hurt, how his throat was closing up with the overwhelming urge to break down and cry.

"No, that ain't-" Ricks chest and back trembled as he exhaled, finally turning his body around, facing Daryl. "Can't let ya touch me, not.. not when I'm like this. I'd hurt ya, Daryl, I _would_. When I get like this, I don'- I can't _not_.. Fuck, Daryl. Don' wanna hurt ya, don' _ever_ want ta hurt ya."

Daryl stared at the deputy for a moment, taking in the distraught expression gracing Rick's face, the way blue eyes watered, threatening to spill tears over flushed cheeks. Rick was trembling, if with rage or sorrow Daryl didn't know. It made no difference. Whatever Rick needed from him, Daryl was willing to give it. If throwing punches at the archer would make the older man feel better, any injury he sustained would be worth it.

"So hurt me." The words fell from his lips a lot easier than he had thought they would. He'd never wanted to hurt, had never thought about offering someone to beat the shit out of him, but here he was.

"Don' do that, Daryl." Rick breathed, closing his eyes as he slumped back against the door, long, slightly bowed legs barely keeping him up.

"Why not? I can take it, man. Jus' do it, I'll be fine." Daryl moved closer, straight into the cop's personal space, only inches between them. "Do what'cha gotta do."

"Don' know what yer askin' fer, ya don' know what I can do." Daryl could hear Rick swallowing, quietly observing the way his hands curled into fists as his sides, trembling harder now. "Can't do that to ya, I _can't_."

"Don' care 'bout any of that. Want ta make ya feel better, want ta _help_." Daryl argued, refusing to back down. "Jus' do it, Rick, I wan' ya ta. I ain't gonna break."

" _NO._ " Rick roared, shoving himself away from the door and into Daryl, toppling them over and onto the floor. The archer hit the ground so hard his breath was forced right out of him, especially with Rick laying on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Daryl's heart started to race, staring up wide eyed at the man above him, waiting for whatever came next, bracing himself for a punch. Instead, Rick's mouth was on his, their teeth clicking at the cop's forceful approach, but the pain lasted for only a second, quickly turning into pleasure, into heat and want and _need_. Rick was kissing him like his life depended on it, biting as the archers lips, sucking at his tongue, curling his fingers into Daryl's hair so tight it stung like a bitch. Daryl couldn't bring himself to care about anything but how good he felt, how wonderful it was to finally be able and give Rick something in return for his endless patience and kindness towards the hunter.

Teeth pierced the flesh of his lip until blood was seeping into their mouths, and for a second Daryls eyes flew open with surprise, and a bit of fear. It took a single glance at Rick's eyes to put that fear to rest. Rick was looking at him, had probably kept his eyes open throughout the entire kiss, blue iris almost completely overtaken by black. But it was still _Rick_ , and even if blood had never done anything for the archer, if Rick liked it, Daryl wouldn't stop him. He returned the kiss with renewed vigor, allowing the deputy to do as he wished. Daryl couldn't tell if they spent moments or hours kissing almost viciously. His lips hurt, were probably bruised and swollen, not to mention the teeth shaped marks adorning his lower lip, and just when he started to feel light headed with the lack of oxygen, Rick pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against the hunters shoulder, taking in a shuddering breath. Daryl had wound his arms around the deputy at some point, holding him close, and now took to rubbing soothing circles into the broad back.

"Yer okay now." He rasped, turning his head to nuzzle against the cops curls. "Yer alright now, I got'cha. I got'cha, Rick."

Silence settled between them, with neither of them moving, until after a few moments, Rick slowly sat up, taking a hold of Daryl's hand and pulling him to sit upright. He didn't speak as he inspected Daryl's lip, carefully brushing this thumb over the wounds he'd created, only to pull back when the archer flinched.

"I'm so sorry." The deputy finally said, dropping his gaze to the floor. Rick looked utterly lost, and the sight made the trackers heart clench painfully. Nothing in the entire world could hurt more than seeing Rick like this.

"Don'." He ground out, flicking his tongue over the bite marks left in his skin, catching a few more droplets of blood. "Didn' hurt me, Rick. This? This ain't hurtin'."

"Yer bleedin'." Rick replied quietly, shaking his head. "God, Daryl, I.. Shouldn't have done that. 'm sorry."

"Ya deaf, officer?" Daryl huffed, reaching out to place his hand against Rick's cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Said ya didn' do nothin' wrong, a'right? Ya got a bit rough. I don' mind. Hell, if it'd make ya feel better, I'd let ya beat me within a fuckin' inch of my life. So ya bit me, who cares?"

" _I_ care." Rick groused, but some of the tension drained from his body.

"Shouldn'. It ain't nothin'. Taken a whole lot worse." Daryl soothed, leaning forward to bring their foreheads together again. "Didn' mind, Rick. I didn'. So stop beatin' yerself up."

"..Yer not going ta leave?" Rick asked, sounding so timid Daryl wanted to wrap his arms around the deputy and never let go again.

"Ain't goin' nowhere. I promise." Daryl breathed, placing a soft kiss against flushed, kiss swollen lips. "How 'bout we get off the floor. Can go sit down in the livin' room an' talk, or go ta bed. Can do whatever ya want."

"I." Rick paused, shooting a glance at Daryl, offering the smallest of smiles. "Think I need a shower, an'. Maybe after we could order take out, an' just.. pretend this didn' happen. Least for right now."

"Yer gonna tell me what happened though, right? Later?"

"I will. I'll tell ya everythin' ya want ta know. Jus'. Not right away." Daryl nodded, gracefully getting on his feet before helping Rick up as well, unable to stop himself placing another affectionate kiss on the deputy's lips.

"Go take yer shower. We can decide what ta eat after."

The evening had passed peacefully, if almost in complete silence. Once Rick had returned to Daryl's side, they had ordered Chinese, sat on the couch and watched TV until it arrived, and ate in comfortable silence beside each other. Rick had bestowed gentle caresses to Daryl the entire time, brushing his fingertips over the archers knee or jaw, pressed his lips against his cheek and the corner of his mouth again and again, silently apologizing, even if he had nothing to apologize for. At least not in Daryl's opinion.

Finally, when all the food had been consumed, and the dishes put away in the dishwasher, Rick sat down beside Daryl once more, breathing deeply before breaking the silence.

"Shane an' I, we were partners on the force. Been friends ever since I can remember. He was the one ta introduce me ta my wife." Another deep breath, a sigh, and then he continued. "Got married way too soon. Lori.. She was my high school sweetheart. She got pregnant pretty soon after we got married. Can still remember how small he was.. We named him Carl, after Lori's grandfather. An' for a while, everythin' was perfect. I had my dream job, a wife and child that loved me. A best friend that always had my back. And then, suddenly.. it just wasn' perfect anymore. Lori an' I, we started ta fight. First about how much time I spent at work, then 'bout money. Eventually, we fought over fightin' so much all the time." Rick shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face, sighed again. "It got so bad I jus'. I didn' wan' ta go home anymore. Hangin' out with Shane was easy, ya know? Lot easier than goin' home ta a wife that hated me, that wouldn' let me be for even a second. An' then, one night, after gettin' piss drunk with some of the guys, I crashed at Shane's place, and.. Well. _Thangs_ happened."

Daryl couldn't stop himself from grunting, clearly disapproving of Rick's choices that night. Rick glanced at him, looking weary, but before Daryl could say anything, continued on with his story.

"Became a regular thang. Me an' Shane. Don' know what I saw in him, always knew he was a jerk, even if he was nice ta me. Kept it goin' fer a couple months until.." Rick cleared his throat, huffed out a shaky breath, his hand twitching, as if he wanted to grab something and hold on, but didn't dare move. Daryl would have none of that. He took Rick's hand in his own and squeezed, letting the deputy know that it was alright.

"Until one night. I'd been at Shane's place 'gain, when my cell rang in the middle of the night. Thought it was the precinct but. There'd been a fire, at my home. Faulty wirin', house caught on fire. Neighbors had called the fire department when they saw the flames in the windows. They said they did everythin' they could to.. but it was too late. They said it started in the kitchen, an' jus' spread through the entire ground floor, so quickly.. Lori was upstairs in the bedroom with Carl, pro'ly sleepin'.."

Ricks voice shook, and he fell silent, gripping Daryl's hand harder, and the archer let him. Felt sorrow creep up his chest at the information he'd been given. God, how much Rick must have suffered because of it, his wife and child suddenly gone, no home to return to..

"Was my fault." Rick whispered, eyes fluttering shut as tears rolled over his cheeks. "Should'a been there. Should'a saved them. But I wasn'. I was screwin' around with Shane, an' that's why.."

"Don' believe that." Daryl interrupted sharply, using his free hand to wipe away the tears on Rick's cheek. "Ya didn' know. Ya didn' know there was gonna be a fire. Was 'n accident, Rick. Even if ya'd been there, chances are you'd pro'ly just ended up dead yerself."

"Ya don't know that." Rick replied weakly, turning his face away from the archer. "Maybe I would'a woken up, maybe I could'a done somethin'.. I should'a been home. I should'a been _with_ them."

"Ya didn' know." Daryl repeated, shifting to straddle the deputy's lap, cupping stubbled cheeks, gently forcing Rick to look at him. "Rick, ya _didn' know_. Faulty wirin' ain't yer fault, ya didn' build the damn house. You couldn'a know what was goin' ta happen. This _wasn_ ' yer fault. Ya hear me?"

"I hear ya." Rick sounded utterly broken, his voice rough and cracking, and Daryl would have ripped his own heart out of his chest if that would have made Rick feel better. Would have offered his life to any existing deity in exchange for Rick's son and wife, right on the spot, if in exchange Rick's tears would dry, and the unbelievable guilt was lifted from his shoulders. "I jus' can't believe ya."

"Gonna keep tellin' ya until ya do. 'cause its the truth." Leaning down, Daryl kissed away every single tear he could find on Rick's face, wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder to hold him close, whispering over and over that it wasn't Rick's fault. Strong arms wrapped around his middle so suddenly the archer almost jerked away, only to catch himself in the last moment. Rick hold on him was bordering on painful, burying his face against the skin of Daryl's neck, trembling like a leaf. Daryl didn't let go. He didn't move away. He held Rick as tightly as he could without crushing he man, remembering all the times Rick had done this for him. Had held and consoled him when he was falling apart, and put his world back together. Nothing and no one was going to stop the archer from returning the favor, now that he was given the chance.

When Ricks tears finally dried, and the tremble had subsided, Daryl slowly got to his feet, pulling the cop up with him. They once again didn't exchange words as he lead Rick into the bedroom, helped the deputy out of his clothes and laid him down on the bed, but there was no need to. They understood each other without.

Daryl rid himself of his jeans, and slipped into bed next to Rick, immediately wrapped up in strong arms that held him against the deputy's chest, almost as if the other feared he'd disappear in a puff of smoke, lest he hold on to him. Rick didn't have to be afraid of that. Daryl wasn't going to leave his side, not tonight, not ever.

Exhaustion quickly overcame them, and with a final, sweet kiss, they drifted into sleep. Hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, so. I am _so_ sorry it took so long for me to update, and such a short chapter as well, but real life has been ridiculous. I'lll be writing shorter chapters to update more frequently, and I hope to manage at least one chapter every couple weeks. Thank you so much, all of you, that have waited so patiently and left such wonderful comments, and all the kudos! 3 I hope you enjoy this update!

In all the years Daryl had worked for Joe, he hadn't called in sick a single time. No matter how bad the hangover was, how much his head pounded, or how much he felt like throwing up each time he coughed, no illness, self-inflicted or not, had kept him in the shack, were Merle would either be running his mouth for getting high. Even when the older Dixon wasn't around, sitting still for too long had always irritated the archer. He could take the physical discomfort from being sick. He couldn't handle feeling useless.

But this morning was different. Rick was still asleep in his bed, after a night of constant nightmares that had woken both the deputy and the archer each time. Daryl had been able to sooth the exhausted man back to sleep each time, whispered to him in a low voice, comforting him. And Rick's eyes had eventually fluttered shut, allowing for another hour or two of fitful sleep. It hadn't been restful in the least, for neither of them, and there was no way the archer was going to leave for work with Rick in such a vulnerable state. So, when six o'clock came around, he had eased himself out from beneath the covers, slipped into his pants and suck out the bedroom and down the stairs, pulling his phone from his pocket once he had reached the living room.

Now, he was on the phone with his boss, informing him that he wasn't showing up today.

"Got some kind'a stomach flu." He gruffed quietly, not wanting to risk waking Rick up. "Don' think I'll be much help, throwin' up over the place."

"I'll be dockin' yer pay fer however long yer out." Joe replied, pausing a moment before finally adding "But ya can make that up by workin' on yer days off, I reckon."

"Works fer me." Daryl grunted. "Pro'ly be back by tomorrow anyway."

Joe had already hung up.

He was about to return to the deputy's side when he heard the stairs creaking, soft steps echoing through the otherwise silent house.

"Mornin'." Rick greeted once he had joined the archer, keeping an unusual amount of distance between them, something that made Daryl want to scowl. There shouldn't be any space between them, wanted Rick pressed up against him , wrapped in his arms.

"Mornin'." He answered, ignoring the burning need he felt to embrace the tired looking man. "Feelin' better?"

"Yea'. Much."

They stood in awkward silence for a while, until finally, Rick moved toward the kitchen, leading Daryl to follow, trailing behind the blue eyed male almost like a puppy. He watched as Rick made coffee, poured it into two mugs, and placed it in front of the archer. Daryl gave a short nod, wrapping his hand around the mug, ignoring the handle, feeling the warmth seep into the ceramic. Something inside him told the hunter to wait for Rick to make the first move, to not pressure the man into talking, or physical contact, even if touching the other man was all Daryl wanted.

"Daryl." Rick started, voice low and unsure, almost as if he was struggling to find the words he needed to express himself. "Last night was.."

"Difficult?" Daryl offered quietly, flicking his gaze up to search the deputy's face.

"Yea'." Rick agreed, giving a short, almost awkward chuckle. "It was difficult. But I wanted to thank ya."

"Don' have nothin' ta thank me fer." The archer huffed, averting his gaze to the mug he was holding. "Would'a done the same fer me."

"True. But that doesn' mean I shouldn' thank ya fer it." The deputy reached out, and Daryl watched almost in slow motion as their skin met, fingertips brushing along his knuckles, then the back of his hand. "Thank ya. Fer everythin' ya did las' night."

"Whatever." The archer grunted, feeling almost embarrassed by this exchange. No one had ever been this open with him, had ever even shown emotions like gratitude, or appreciation, making it so much harder for him to accept.

"Guess I still owe ya the rest of that story." Rick continued, pulling back his hand, breaking the contact between them, making Daryl want to whimper with disappointment. But this wasn't about him, not right now. Rick had a story to finish, a story he _wanted_ to finish. A story Daryl wanted to hear. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, lest something mortifying slip past his lips, words like " _Please_ ", and " _Touch me_ ".

"After Lori and Carl.. passed. I had no place ta go, so I stayed with Shane." Rick sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "He was pretty fucked up fer a while, we both were. The three of us had been close. And fer a while, bein' around him helped. Although when I think back now, I think it might have been just not bein' _alone_ that helped. Durin' that time we.. _I_ used sex as a distraction. Could close my eyes an' forget everythin' that happened."

Daryl gave another grunt at that, lowering his head immediately after. He really shouldn't interrupt Rick, much less to express his dislike for the deputy's choices, and he fully expected to be scolded for his rude behavior. Instead, he was rewarded with a sincere sounding huff of laughter.

"I know, not the best thang ta do. Even worse when ya consider how thang's ended."

"How'd they end?" Daryl asked, glancing at the deputy from below his lashes, basking in the small smile gracing Rick's lips.

"Shane.. He started talking about how this was our chance ta.. make thangs right. Said we should'a been tagether from the start, stuff like that." The smile faded slowly as Rick continued, brows furrowing, instantly making the male look five years older. "Problem was, I never.. I never thought of him like that, ya know? It wasn' love, or fate, or anythin' even remotely close ta that. It was just.. sex. And after a year, I realized that I couldn' keep goin' the way we were. Shane was controlling, and insanely jealous. He was gettin' more violent. Don' get me wrong, he never laid a hand on me, but. Every guy I talked ta was suddenly out ta steal me away from him. Didn' matter if it was a stranger, or someone we'd worked with fer years, Shane just. He lost it."

"So ya left him." Daryl huffed. He had no problem imagining Shane as the type of guy to throw punches the second he felt threatened.

"So I left him." Rick agreed quietly. "Left everythin', really. Moved here, got transferred ta another police department. Changed my number, my e-mail, anything he could use ta contact me. The night I packed up my thangs, we had a bad fight. He didn' wan' ta accept that I didn' love him, never had. Said it was 'cause I felt guilty, that I jus' needed time. An' last night, he decided I'd had enough time."

"Jerk." Daryl grunted, shaking his head, knuckles white as he gripped the mug tight.

"Yea." Rick shook his head, curled hair swaying with the movement. "But he's persistent. He ain't gonna quit, Daryl. An' I've been thinkin'.. He's a cop, too, chances are he'll find out who ya are an'.."

The deputy trailed off, words dying on his lips. Daryl didn't need him to finish his sentence. The implications were clear. If Shane found out who Daryl was, he'd know who the archer was affiliated with. And if the wrong person would somehow come to know of their relationship.. Daryl felt a lump forming in his throat, swallowing hard.

"Yer gonna have problems." He finally said, forcing his lips and tongue to cooperate and form the words.

"Not jus' me, Daryl. Yer gonna have 'em too. Told me yer brother could never find out."

And once more, Merle was fucking with Daryls life, this time without even actually being present. He'd make the archers life hell, would throw punches and yell, would have his friends gang up on Daryl, try and beat the "fairy" out of him, to beat the hatred for police officers he himself held into his younger brother.

"So, we're done." Daryl concluded dully, feeling bile rising in his throat as his chest constricted. His hands were shaking now, because just the _thought_ of a life without Rick in it was enough to cause the room to spin.

"If that's what ya want, then yea. We're done." The room spun faster now, objects blurring into misshaped splots of color. Daryl was going to be sick, there was no way he could hold it in long enough to get outside- "But I was thinkin' we could jus' start meetin' somewhere else. Somewhere Shane won' see us tagether."

Relief washed over the archer like a tidal wave, but it was too late. Panicked, he grabbed for the trash can standing beside the kitchen island they were standing at, hunching over and emptying whatever was in his stomach into it. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of his blood rushing through him, over the thoughts of _Not gonna lose him_ and _Don' have ta let go_.

He had no idea how long he spent bent over retching, but when the heaving of his stomach finally subsided, he realized that Rick was beside him, holding his hair out of his face with one hand, rubbing the other over his back in small circles.

"Yer okay, darlin'." Rick breathed, holding the archer steady, patiently waiting for Daryl to recover. "A'right now?"

Daryl nodded sharply, slowly straightening, avoiding Rick's gaze at all cost. From all the things he'd been embarrassed for by Rick seeing, this had to be the worst. Who the hell wanted a guy that bent over and puked all over the place at the mere mention of not continuing their relationship?

"Don' move." Rick ordered gently, moving away from Daryl only long enough to retrieve a glass of water, pressing the could rim of the glass against the hunters lower lip once he had returned. "Drink, darlin'. Slowly."

Daryl took miniscule sips, one after the other, until he had drained half the liquid it had held. Once Rick had placed the object onto the counter, he leaned in to press a kiss to the archers temple, making the younger male flinch away.

"Don'." He breathed out, shaking his head slightly. He needed to brush his teeth, needed a shower to wash away the cold sweat stuck to his skin, needed to _not_ have Rick see him like this.

"A'right Daryl, 's okay. I understand." Rick backed off then, if not further than a single backwards step, hands raised for Daryl to see. "What do ya need, darlin'? Jus' tell me, an' I'll give it ta ya."

"Need a shower. Brush my teeth. Take out the trash." Daryl swallowed, brows furrowing at the rawness of his throat. He was feeling utterly conflicted, absolutely horrified with the situation, wanting to run and hide until he could gather himself, while at the same time shaking with the need to curl up against the deputy and hide from the world, hide from his life, from everything that made it so damn hard to be himself.

"A'right, that's fine Daryl. Why don'cha go upstairs, take a shower, an' brush yer teeth. Got an extra tooth brush, if ya don' wanna use mine. I can take out the trash-"

" _No_!" Daryl snapped, shaking his head. "I did this, I'ma clean it up. I jus' need ta.. Need ta fix this."

"Daryl, ya don' need ta fix anything." Rick soothed, brows furrowing ever so slightly. "But if ya wan' ta do it yerself, that's alright."

"Mm." Daryl offered no more words, simply pulling the trash bag from the can, moving so fast he was almost running. Humiliation still burned within him, and he chucked the garbage into the can so forcefully, it almost fell over. A neighbor gave Daryl a weird look that the archer pointedly ignored. Rick had enough on his plate as it was, he didn't need a worried neighbor coming over, asking questions about the strange man assaulting his garbage can.

Once back inside, he found Rick sitting at the table, reading the newspaper he must have retrieved from outside before Daryl had woken, sipping at his coffee. It gave the archer a way to slip upstairs wordlessly, brush his teeth and shower, to somehow regain his bearings without having to feel too much pressure. One of these days, he'd have to tell Rick just how much he appreciated him. How much it meant to him that he never pushed him into something he wasn't ready for, or something he flat out didn't want to do.

For now, all Daryl could manage was a side way glance at the cop, before hurrying up the stairs and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. The water felt good running over his skin, soothed his tense muscles, and quieted his mind. Rick would still be downstairs when he got out. Wouldn't be mad at him for losing his composure. Daryl repeated these thoughts to himself again and again, refusing to let fear rise in his chest at what was going to happen once he joined the other male again.

Rick had said it was okay. He wasn't going to yell at him, or hurt him. Rick wasn't like that. He wasn't like Merle, or his old man. Daryl was safe with him. Unlike Rick was with Shane.

Shane was a real problem. One that could destroy Daryls life, if he felt like blabbing to others who he had seen Rick with. It frightened the archer, but what caused him much more anxiety was the thought of what would happen if Rick kept rejecting the other cop. He'd grown up around men like Shane, and sooner or later, when the rage became so strong it overpowered everything else, they went after anything and anyone. Shane would go after Rick, would hurt him, would take him away-

"Stop it." Daryl ground out quietly, because simply thinking it wasn't enough to calm himself anymore. They were going to be fine. Rick would figure something out, and they'd be fine. Everything was going to be fine.


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl took as long in the shower as he possibly could, trying to somehow will his heartrate to slow, to stop the quivering of his body. It was no use. He couldn't do this on his own. He needed Rick.

It was a foreign thing, to so readily admit that he _needed_ someone else. But then, for the first time in his life, such admissions wouldn't get him ridiculed, or worse. He'd be welcomed with opened arms, even praised for being so open. Years and years of building walls around his heart and soul made it so much harder to ask for what he needed, and maybe that was why Rick was so forgiving. So gentle. He understood what kind of willpower it took for the archer to come to him, to lay his very core into the deputys hands, and know that he wouldn't be shattered into pieces. Once again, Daryl had no choice but to be awed by the older man once again.

"Daryl?" Ricks voice shook him from his thoughts, and for a second, the redneck felt the insistent urge to snap at the cop to leave him the fuck alone. Instead, he took a deep breath and shut off the water, mourning its warmth only for a second.

"'Almost done." He replied, just loud enough so Rick could hear. "Just need ta dry off, 'n get dressed."

"You want some of my clothes?"

Daryl glanced at the pile of clothing he had left to lay on the floor, chewing at his lower lip. They weren't dirty, per se, perhaps a bit sweaty, but not enough to justify making Rick wash them. But the thought of wearing something of the deputys, to be wrapped in the mans scent, to look like maybe, just _maybe_ , he, somehow, belonged to Rick...

" ." He answered, stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry himself off.

"I'll put them outside the door. Just come on back downstairs when yer done."

As always, Rick was being considerate, not assuming he could simply come in and hand Daryl what he had offered, but giving the archer the privacy he had once asked for, back when he had showered here for the first time. Much had changed since then, some thing becoming easier, while others had become seemingly infinately more difficult. And still, the small gestures warmed the hunters heart, just as it had back then.

Once he heard the footsteps down the stairs, indicating Rick had made his way back to the livingroom, the archer opened the door and snagged the clothing from the floor. For a few moments, he simply help them in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along the soft material of the offered T-shirt and sweat pants, lifting them to his face to take a wiff, once more finding the others scent damn near intoxicating. Even the boxers that had been placed between pants and shirt was softer than anything Daryl had ever owned. Had Rick purposely chosen these items, perhaps to make him feel more comfortable? He had to have. Everything Rick wore and owned was nice, but Daryl had yet to see him adorned in anything this.. cozy.

He slipped into the clothes quickly, not bothering to dry his hair or even try and tame it with a brush. Rick didn't care what he did to his hair. Rick had called him beautiful the first night they met, when Daryl had been sweaty and tired, the grim of the motor oil still stuck under his nails. Rick didn't need him to try and be someone he wasn't.

The fabric felt incredible against his skin, and he would have to thank Rick for being so kind , once the more important things were talked about and taken care of. They'd have to find a place to meet, somewhere Shane wouldn't come looking for them. In fact, visiting the deputy here would probably be out of the question all together, now that his ex-fuckbuddy was back in the picture. It was a somber thought, not being able to share Ricks home for however long he stayed, to move freely in the deputys space, knowing he had the right to do so. Daryls place would be a better choice, but Daryl loathed to think of his deputy in that place, especially with the temperatures dropping. With limit hot water, and a matress so worn through it was barely better than sleeping on a blanket, winter would be hard. And while Daryl was very much used to it, he was certain Rick was not. Perhaps they could meet at a motel, somewhere outside of town, where at least they had a functioning heater and a bed soft enough to not put their backs through the grinder when slept on.

All these thoughts were buzzing in his mind as the archer finally made his way downstairs, bare feet padding over the hardwood floor. Rick was sitting on the couch, looking up at Daryl with his beautiful smile that the hunter could never help but return.

"Feel better?" Rick asked, and the archer nodded, moving closer until he was seated beside the older male, running a hand through his hair to keep it out of his face.

"Guess we got a lot to talk about." The hunter said, lowering his eyes to the ground before forcing himself to meet Ricks gaze once more. "'bout hoiw we're going ta do things from now on."

"Wish we didn't have ta." Rick sighed, moving his hand to gently brush across Daryls knee, gaze focused on the hunters face, making sure he wasn't overstepping. As it happened, it was very much the opposite. Rick wasn't touching him nearly enough. And so, Daryl took hold of the deputys hand, interwining their fingers, and holding on.

"Wish we didn' have ta, either." Daryl responded quietly. "But we do. Prol'ly shouln' meet here no more. Don' need him seein' us tagether again, not if we wan' ta keep this quiet."

"Not want to, Daryl _. Need_ to." Rick interjected, giving a small, frustrated huff. "If I could, 'd tell the whole world about us. Tell 'em how lucky I am ta have ya. How much I.." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Could jus' keep meetin' at yer place."

"My place 's a dumb. Won' be warm enough durin' the winter. Don' need ya gettin' sick or somethin'."

"Could just run away together." There was humor laced in the cops words, making it clear he was just joking, but god if that didn't sound like the best fucking thing on earth right now. They could just leave, start over somewhere new. Rick could become a deputy anywhere else, and Daryl could find a job as a mechanic wherever they relocated. They could be together openly, could hold hands and kiss in public..

"Know we can't." He said instead, turning his upper body so he was facing Rick, leaning his forehead against the officers shoulder. "Shane and Merle, they'd find us. Know they would. Don' think there's anywhere far 'nough to run to."

"Mexico is warm." Rick replied smoothly, wrapping his arm around Daryls back, hand coming to rest comfortingly against the archers waist. "An' if yer place is too cold fer me, its too cold fer ya, too. Gotta find ya a better place ta live."

"Ain't about where I live right now." Not that he could afford to live anywhere else with Merle constantly draining his funds. "Could meet at motels. Not the nicest 'a places, but it's better than nothin'."

Rick was silent then, prompting the archer to lift his head, shooting the deputy a questioning look. Ricks face was solemn, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Hate that we have ta do this. Hate that 'cause of Shane, my life is this... this _mess._ An' I hate puttin' you through it, too. Don' deserve that, Daryl."

"Don' deserve that, neither. And because of me, ya got Merle ta worry about." The hunter shook his head. "Maybe not right now, but once he's outta jail, thing's are gonna get a lot more complicated."

"Seems like thats the motto of today." Rick snorted, running a hand over his face, for the very first time looking older than he was. "We'll figure it out. From now on, we can meet at motels. Jus' until we figure out somethin' better."

Daryl wanted to say "I don't think there's anything better to figure out". But he couldn't bring himself to break this truth to the deputy. Realistically, even if Shane disappeared in a poof of smoke, that still left Merle. And once he was back, if the archer wanted to avoid calling attention to their relationship, he'd have to act as he always had. Be at Merles beck and call, whenever, and however, the older Dixon demanded. He'd end up sneaking out of the house at night, whenever he could, to see Rick. But between work and Merle, and Ricks own schedule, their time together would be cut down to an absolute minimum. There was no way he was willing to risk the others safety by being greedy and tipping Merle off. All scenarios he could think of, saw their relationship, eventually, ending. The thought alone caused a pain so great in Daryls chest, it felt as if he couldn't breath. But now wasn't the time to let on just how fucked they were. Rick didn't need to think about their bleak future.

"Jus' until we figure out somethin' better." He agreed instead, willing his breathing to remain calm, and his face free of any doubt.

A month had passed since that conversation, and still Daryl could feel the strain it had left on him. They had been at each others side whenever they could, meeting in motels on their days off, and sometimes just to sleep next to each other.

Daryl had refused all of Ricks offers to help find him a new place to live, or to improve the place the lived in now. The archer couldn't deny that with the dramatic drop in temperatures, the nights had become increasingly uncomfortable, but he'd be damned if he let Rick spend money on something that wasn't absolutely necessary. Rick would mention it from time to time, but he never pushed Daryl. All in all, things were going smoothly.

Tonight was one of the nights they were meeting at a motel (always different ones, to avoid detection, paying in cash and using false names), Daryl being the first to get there. The room wasn't the nicest he had ever seen, but it was clean, and the bed was soft. The Tv worked, and so did the remote, a feature not all the previous rooms had included.

After a quick shower, Daryl was laying on the bed when he heard a knock, then silence, then two more knocks. Their own little code that they had come up with, just in case someone else came knocking. Daryl was quick to rise from the bed, and hurry over to the door. It had only been three days since they last saw each other, and yet it felt like an eterinity. He wasn't prepared for what he saw when he opened the door.

"What the _fuck_?!"

The entire right side of the deputys face was bruised, cheek swollen, lip busted open. He was smiling at Daryl, and the motion only served to intensify the beated look he was sporting.

"Good ta see ya too, sweetheart." He rumbled, gently moving past the archer to enter the room.

"What the hell happened?" Daryl groused, closing the door so quickly the sound resonated throughout the room. " Rick was hurt, it looked like someone had slammed his face into the wall, and the man was just smiling at him as if nothing had happened. "Who the _fuck_ did this?"

"Jus' a rough day at work, Daryl." Rick soothed, reaching up to brush his thumbs over the archers cheeks. "Busted a guy for drunk drivin', an' it got physical. Ain't nothin'."

"The fuck it's nothin'." Daryl spat, grabbing the deputys hands and holding them tight. "Did ya get it looked at? Did ya put ice on it?"

"EMT cleared me, darlin'. I'm fine. Just bruises, maybe a small concussion. Hurts like a bitch, but it ain't gonna kill me." Rick replied softly, leaning closer to the archer until their noses brushed. "Missed ya."

"My ass yer fine." The archer huffed, releasing one of the deputys hand to gingerly place it on the others uninjured face. "Should'a called and cancelled. Would'a felt a lot better at home."

"Wan'ed ta see ya." Rick was smiling again, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Wasn' gonna let that jackass get in the way of that."

"Well, ya tell me that fuckers name, I'll put a bolt through him." Daryl ground out. "If ya got a concussion, ya should be restin'. Jus' go home, we can meet 'nother time."

"Ya gettin' bored with me, Daryl?" It was clear Rick was joking, and still, the mere thought that perhaps he believed the words he'd just said rubbed Daryl in all the wrong places.

"Worried 'bout ya. Bet ya got time off work, should' be drivin' back an' forth just cause of me."

"Don't have ta worry 'bout me, sweetheart." Rick was trying to sooth him, this Daryl knew, and still, he couldn't help how irritated he was with the cop. Why didn't Rick for once just think of himself? Daryl could have waited, he could have spent the night at the room he had already paid for to avoid the cold, and Rick could have been at home, where he was comfortable, where he had painkillers and ice packages to put on his face, that was no doubt sore and aching.

"Always gonna worry 'bout ya. 's what ya do when ya love someone, ain' it?" He snapped, only to freeze a second later, right along with the deputy..


End file.
